LIBRARY 

«f  California 

IRVINE 


"HEBE!    SHOOT  ME!    'FORE  GOD.  A  FAIB  MASK!' 


COLUMBIAN  HISTORICAL  NOVELS.    VOLUME  VI. 


A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON 


BY 

JOHN  R  MUSICK 

Author  of  "Columbia,"  "  Estevan,"  "St.  Augustine,"  "Pocahontas/ 
"The  Pilgrims,"  Etc.,  Etc. 


Illustrations  by 

FREELAND   A.    CARTER 


¥orfe 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 
LONDON  AND  TORONTO 


y 


COPTRIGHT,   1893,   BY  THE 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS   COMPANY 


[Registered  at  Stationer?  Hall,  London,,  Eng.] 


Printed  in  the  United  States. 


MY    WIFE, 

WHO   SHARES   MY   JOYS  AND  SORROWS,  TOILS   AND    CARES, 

THIS   BOOK 
IS   AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 

BY 
THE  AUTHOR 


PREFACE. 


HISTORIANS  have  bestowed  little  attention  to 
that  important  period  in  our  great  commonwealth, 
just  after  the  restoration  in  England.  Though  one 
hundred  years  before  liberty  was  actually  obtained, 
the  sleeping  goddess  seemed  to  have  opened  her 
eyes  on  that  occasion  and  yawned,  though  she 
closed  them  the  next  moment  for  a  sleep  of  a  cen 
tury  longer.  Events  produce  such  strange  and 
lasting  impressions  on  individuals  as  well  as  on  na 
tions,  that  the  historian  may  not  be  much  out  of 
the  way,  who  fancies  that  he  sees  in  the  reign  of 
Cromwell  the  outgrowth  of  republicanism,  which 
culminated  in  the  establishment  of  a  free  and  in 
dependent  English-speaking  people  on  the  Ameri 
can  continent.  The  two  principal  classes  of  Eng 
lish  colonists  were  the  cavaliers  and  the  Puritans, 
though  there  were  also  Quakers,  Catholics,  and  set 
tlers  of  other  creeds.  Generally  the  cavaliers  were 


vi  PREFACE. 

the  "king's  men,"  or  royalists,  and  the  Puritans 
republicans.  The  different  characteristics  of  these 
two  sects  were  quite  marked.  The  Puritans  were 
sober  and  industrious,  quiet,  fanatically  religious 
and  strict,  while  the  cavaliers  were  polite,  gallant, 
brave,  good  livers  and  quite  fond  of  display.  They 
were  nearly  all  of  the  Church  of  England,  with 
rather  loose  morals,  fond  of  fox-hunting  and  gay 
society.  During  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  England,  the  Puritans  were  in  power,  and  the 
king's  people,  cavaliers,  or  royalists  were  reinstated 
on  the  restoration  of  monarchy  in  1660. 

Sir  William  Berkeley,  a  bigoted  churchman,  a 
lover  of  royalty,  and  one  who  despised  republican 
ism  and  personal  liberty  so  heartily  that  he  could 
"  thank  God  that  there  were  neither  printing-presses 
nor  public  schools  in  Virginia,"  was  appointed  by 
Charles  II.  governor  of  Virginia.  Berkeley,  whose 
early  career  was  bright  with  promise,  seems  in  his 
old  age  to  have  become  filled  with  hatred  and  ava 
rice.  He  was  too  stubborn  to  listen  to  the  counsel 
even  of  friends.  Being  engaged  in  a  profitable 
traffic  with  the  Indians,  he  preferred  to  let  them 
slaughter  the  people  on  the  frontier,  rather  than  to 


PREFACE.  vii 

allow  his  business  to  be  interfered  with.  Berke 
ley's  tyranny  was  carried  to  such  an  extreme,  that 
rebellion  was  the  natural  consequence.  Eebellion 
always  follows  some  injury  or  misplaced  confidence 
in  the  powers  of  the  government.  This  rebellion 
came  a  "century  too  soon,"  being  just  one  hun 
dred  years  before  the  great  revolution,  which  set 
at  liberty  all  the  colonies  of  North  America. 

In  this  story  we  take  up  John  Stevens  and  his 
son  Eobert,  the  son  and  grandson  of  Philip  Ste 
vens,  whose  story  was  told  in  "  Pocahontas. "  The 
object  has  been  to  give  a  complete  history  of  the 
period  and  to  depict  home  life,  manners  and  cus 
toms  of  the  time  in  the  form  of  a  pleasing  story. 
It  remains  for  the  reader  to  say  if  the  effort  has 
been  a  success. 

JOHN  E.  MUSICK. 

KIRKSVILLE,  Mo. ,  August  1st,  1892. 


TABLE   OF   OO^TE]SrTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

THE  DUCKING  STOOL, ,        .      1 

CHAPTER  II. 
SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE,     .  .20 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD,     .        .        .        .39 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK,          .        .        .        .        .59 

CHAPTER  V. 
JOHN  STEVENS'  CHARGE,         ......    77 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION,  ......    92 

CHAPTER  VII. 
IN  WIDOW'S  WEEDS,       .        .        .  .        .        .107 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  STEPFATHER, 126 


x  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PAGE 

THE  MOVING  WORLD,      . 144 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD, 162 

CHAPTER  XI. 
TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT,    . 181 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE 197 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
LEFT  ALONE, 213 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  TREASURE  SHIP, .  231 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE,        .....  244 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
KING  PHILIP'S  WAR, .  261 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
NEARING  THE  VERGE,      .......  280 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE,       ......  296 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER,  .  314 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  XX. 

PAGE 

BACON  A  REBEL,      ......        .  331 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN,       ......  350 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE, 366 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
CONCLUSION,    ......       *        <>       .  382 

HISTORICAL  INDEX,  .......  393 

CHRONOLOGY 401 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"Here!    Shoot  me!    'Fore  God,  a  fair  mark!"   (See 

page  337) , Frontispiece 

Ducking  stool,        ........  1 

"I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out !"         .         .         .         .         .  17 

Once  more  he  bent  over  the  sleeping  children,    .         .  37 
Kieft    from    the    ramparts     watched    the     burning 

wigwams,          .......  43 

Stuyvesant, 48 

The  squaw,  with  a  yell  of  fear,  wheeled  to  fly  for  her 

life,  .         . 49 

Blanche  could  not  utter  a  word  of  consolation,   .         .  101 

Oliver  Cromwell, 113 

"  Peter  the  Headstrong, "  unable  to  control  his  passion, 

tore  the  letter  into  pieces,        .         .         .         .115 

Tomb  of  Stuyvesant, 116 

The  door  was  thrown  open,    and  the  boy  Robert  en 
tered  to  take  a  part  in  the  scene,     .         .         .  133 
His  temper  flamed  out  in  words,           ....  154 
His  tired  child  was  at  his  side  uncomplainingly,         .  171 
'•  Are  you  ready  ?"           .......  199 

Sir  Henry  Vane, 202 

"  Our  journey  is  not  one  half  over  !"     .         .         .         .  221 

"  You  are  not  lost,  if  you  follow  me  !"          ...  260 
He  fell  upon  his  face  in  the  mud  and  water  with  his 

gun  under  him, 279 

He  flung  him  down  the  front  steps  where  he  lay  in  a 

heap  on  the  ground,          .....  299 

Ruins  of  Jamestown,     .......  363 

The  ball  struck  four  or  five  feet  to  Robert's  left,  and 

in  front  of  him,  splashing  up  a  jet  of  water,  .  372 

Map  of  the  period,         .         .         .                 .         .         .  248 

xiii 


A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    DUCKING-STOOL. 

Blow,  wind,  and  crack  your  cheeks  !  rage  !  blow  ! 

You  cataracts  and  hurricanes,  spout 

Till  you  have  drenched  our  steeples,  drowned  the  cocks  ! 

You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing  fires, 

Vaunt  couriers  to  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts, 

Singe  my  white  head  !     And  thou,  all-shaking  thunder, 

Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 


of     bearded    men, 
some    in    the    sad  -  colored 
clothes  and  steeple-crowned 
hats    of  Puritans,  others  in 
—  •     loose  top-boots,  scarlet  coats, 
lace  and  periwigs  of  the  cavaliers 
of  the  Cromwellian  period,  inter 
mixed  with  women,  some  wearing 

' 

hoods  and  others  bareheaded,  was 
assembled  on  the  banks  of  a  deep  pond  within  sight 
of  Jamestown,  Ya.  A  curious  machine,  one  which 


2  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

at  the  present  day  would  puzzle  the  beholder  to 
guess  its  use,  had  been  constructed  near  the  edge  of 
the  water.  It  was  a  simple  contrivance  and  rude  in 
structure;  but  the  freshly  hewn  timbers  were  proof 
of  its  virgin  newness.  This  machine  was  a  long 
pole  fastened  upon  an  upright  post,  almost  at  the 
water's  edge,  so  that  it  could  revolve  or  dip  at  the 
will  of  the  manipulators.  On  the  heavy  end  of 
the  pole  was  a  seat  or  chair  fastened,  with  a  rest 
for  the  feet,  and  straps  and  buckles  so  arranged 
that  when  one  was  buckled  down  escape  was  im 
possible.  On  the  opposite  end  of  the  pole  a  rope 
was  tied,  the  end  hanging  down  to  the  ground. 
This  contrivance,  to-day  unknown,  was  once  quite 
familiar  to  English  civilization,  and  was  called  the 
"ducking-stool."  The  founders  of  the  American 
colonies,  whatever  may  have  been  their  original 
designs  for  the  promotion  of  universal  happiness, 
found  it  necessary  very  soon  to  allot  a  portion  of 
the  virgin  soil  to  the  humiliation,  punishment  and 
degradation  of  their  fellow  creatures. 

Thus  we  find,  in  addition  to  the  prison,  the  whip 
ping-post  and  the  pillory,  the  ducking-stool.  From 
the  vast  throng  assembled  about  the  pond  on  that 
mild  June  day  in  1653,  one  might  suppose  that  the 
entire  colony  had  turned  out  to  witness  some  great 
event.  Nearly  four  years  before  the  opening  of 
our  story,  Cromwell  had  established  the  "Common- 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  3 

wealth"  in  England;  but  it  was  not  until  1653 
that  the  Parliament  party,  or  "Roundheads,"  as 
they  were  contemptuously  termed,  conquered  the 
colony  of  Virginia.  Many  of  the  royalists  were 
still  elected  to  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  the  cav 
aliers  in  boots  and  lace,  with  riding-whips  in  hand, 
predominated  in  the  throng  we  have  just  described. 
The  continual  neighing  of  horses  in  the  woods  told 
of  the  arrival  of  fresh  troops  of  planters  and  fox 
hunting  cavaliers. 

The  merry  cavalier  was  easily  distinguished 
from  the  sedate  Puritan.  The  latter  gazed  solemnly 
on  the  instrument  of  torture  as  a  thing  essential  to 
the  performance  of  a  duty,  while  the  cavaliers 
seemed  to  have  come  more  for  the  enjoyment  of 
some  rare  sport,  than  to  witness  an  execution  of  the 
law.  Occasionally  a  snake-eyed  aborigine  min 
gled  with  the  throng,  gazing  in  wonder  on  the 
scene,  or  a  negro,  granted  a  half -holiday,  stood 
grinning  with  barbarous  delight  on  what  was  more 
sport  than  punishment  in  his  eyes. 

There  is  something  hideous  about  the  ducking- 
stool  in  the  present  age  of  reason  and  enlighten 
ment,  more  especially  as  it  was  designed  to  punish 
the  weaker  sex  and  usually  those  advanced  in 
years.  Before  the  ugly  machine  and  between  it 
and  the  road  which  ran  past  the  pond  to  the  vil 
lage  was  a  grass-plot,  much  overgrown  with  bur- 


4  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

dock,  pigweed,  plantain  and  such  unsightly  vege 
tation,  which  seemed  to  find  something  congenial 
in  the  soil  that  bore  an.  instrument  for  the  torture 
of  the  gentler  sex ;  but  on  one  side  of  the  post  and 
leaning  against  it  was  a  wild  rosebush  covered  with 
fragrant  flowers. 

It  was  still  an  early  hour,  for  the  morning  dew 
sparkled  in  the  deeper  recesses  of  the  grand  old 
forest,  and  the  moisture  of  dawn  yet  lingered  on 
the  air.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  that  instrument 
was  regarded  with  careless  indifference,  even  by 
the  gentler  sex  of  this  period. 

Meagre  and  cold  was  the  sympathy  which  a  trans 
gressor  might  expect  from  the  assembly  at  the  pond. 
The  women  mingled  freely  with  the  crowd  and  ap 
peared  to  take  a  peculiar  interest  in  the  punishment 
about  to  be  inflicted.  The  age  had  not  so  much 
refinement,  that  any  sense  of  impropriety  kept  the 
wearers  of  petticoats  and  farthingales  from  elbow 
ing  their  way  through  the  densest  throngs  to  wit 
ness  the  executions.  Those  wives  and  maidens  of 
English  birth  and  breeding  were  morally  and  ma 
terially  of  coarser  fibre  than  their  fair  descend 
ants,  who  would  swoon  at  the  thought  of  torture 
and  punishment.  They  were  not  all  hard-featured 
amazons  in  that  throng,  for,  mingled  with  the 
stout,  broad-shouldered  dames,  were  maids  natu 
rally  shy,  timid  and  beautiful.  The  ruddy  cheeks 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  5 

and  ruby  lips  indicated  health,  and  the  brawny 
arms  of  many  women  bore  evidence  of  physical 
toil. 

The  cavaliers  were  jesting  and  laughing,  while 
the  Puritans  were  silent,  or  conversing  in  low, 
measured  tones  on  the  purpose  of  the  assembly. 

There  was  enough  of  gloom  and  solemnity  in  the 
one  party  to  prove  that  the  execution  was  not  to 
be  a  farce,  and  enough  merriment  in  the  other  to 
convince  a  beholder  that  the  punishment  was  not 
capital.  A  young  cavalier,  all  silk  and  lace,  with 
heavy  riding-boots,  galloped  up  to  the  scene  and, 
dismounting,  handed  the  rein  to  a  negro  slave,  who 
had  run  himself  out  of  breath  to  keep  up  with  his 
master,  and  hastened  down  to  the  water. 

"Good  morrow,  Eoger!  "  said  the  new-comer  to 
a  young  man  of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age, 
like  himself  a  gentleman  of  ease. 

"Good  morrow,  Hugh,"  Roger  answered. 

"What  gala  scene  have  they  prepared  for  our 
amusement?"  asked  Hugh,  his  dark  gray  eyes 
twinkling  with  merriment.  "I  trow  it  is  one  that 
you  and  I  need  never  fear." 

"The  magistrates  have  adjudged  Ann  Linkon 
to  be  ducked." 

"Marry!    what  hath  she  done?" 

"Divers  offences,  all  petty,  but  aggravating  in 
themselves.  She  is  not  only  a  common  scold,  but 


6  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

a  babbling  woman,  who  often  hath  slandered  and 
scandalized  her  neighbors,  for  which  her  poor  hus 
band  is  often  brought  into  chargeable  and  vexatious 
suits  and  cast  in  great  damages." 

Hugh  gave  utterance  to  a  genuine  cavalier-like 
laugh,  and,  striking  his  boot-top  with  his  riding- 
whip,  returned: 

"Marry!  but  she  will  make  a  merry  sight  soar 
ing  through  the  air  like  a  fisher-bird  to  be  plunged 
beneath  the  water." 

"It  will  be  a  goodly  sight,  Hugh,  and  one  I 
knew  you  would  wish  to  see;  therefore  I  sent  for 
you." 

"  You  have  my  thanks;  but  where  is  the  culprit?" 

"  They  have  not  arrived  with  her  yet.  Did  you 
come  from  Greenspring  Manor  this  morn?" 

"Yes." 

"How  is  Sir  William  Berkeley?" 

"He  is  well,  and  still  lives  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
the  king  restored  to  his  throne." 

"  Hath  he  invited  our  wandering  prince  to  Vir 
ginia?" 

"Sh — !  speak  not  so  loud,"  said  Hugh  in  an 
undertone.  "There  are  some  of  those  Puritans, 
the  cursed  Eoundheads,  near,  and  it  would  mean 
death  to  Sir  William  if  it  were  known  that  he  but 
breathed  such  thoughts." 

The  two  young  men  walked  a  little  apart  from 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  7 

the  others  and  sat  down  upon  the  green,  mossy 
banks,  where  they  might  converse  uninterrupted 
and  still  be  near  enough  to  witness  the  ducking 
when  the  officers  arrived  with  the  victim. 

"Keep  a  still  tongue  in  your  head,  Roger,"  said 
Hugh  when  they  were  seated.  "Greenspring 
Manor  is  beset  with  spies,  and  the  Roundheads 
long  for  some  pretext  to  hang  Sir  William  for  his 
devotion  to  our  king;  but  Sir  William  says  that 
the  commonwealth  will  end  with  Cromwell  and  the 
son  of  our  murdered  king  will  be  restored." 

"The  rule  of  the  Roundheads  is  mild." 

"Mild,  bah!"  interrupted  Hugh  in  contempt. 
"They  are  men  without  force,  groundlings,  the 
common  trash  from  the  earth  with  whom  the  best 
do  not  mingle." 

"But  they  permit  the  people  to  send  royalists 
to  the  House  of  Burgesses." 

"  That  they  do;  yet  there  they  must  mingle  with 
leetmen  and  indented  slaves  whose  terms  have  ex 
pired,"  and  Hugh  heaved  a  sigh  and  dug  his  boot 
heel  into  the  ground,  adding,  "  It  was  not  a  merry 
day  for  old  England  when  they  struck  off  the  king's 
head." 

While  the  young  royalists  were  discussing  poli 
tics  and  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  guard  with  Ann 
Linkon,  the  women  were  not  all  silent. 

"  Good  wives,"  said  a  hard-featured  dame  of  fifty, 


8  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"I  will  tell  you  a  piece  of  my  mind.  It  would 
be  greatly  for  the  public  behoof ,  if  we  women  be 
ing  of  mature  age  and  clmrch  members  in  good  re 
pute  like  Ann  Linkon  miglit  speak  our  minds  of 
sucli  baggage  as  Dorothe  Stevens  without  being  ad 
judged  and  sent  to  the  ducking-stool  as  she  is  to 
be  done.  Wherefore  is  Dorothe  Stevens  so  great 
that  one  must  not  say  ill  of  her  that  they  be  plunged 
in  the  pond?  Did  she  but  have  her  deserts,  would 
she  be  at  home  and  Ann  Linkon  on  the  stool? 
Marry!  I  trow  not!" 

"Prythee,  good  dame  Woodley,  be  more  chary 
of  your  tongue,  lest  you  be  brought  to  judgment," 
interposed  a  more  cautious  sister. 

Dame  Woodley  scowled  and  ground  her  teeth  in 
silence  for  a  short  interval,  and  then  resumed : 

"I  speak  only  to  you  five  who  know  the  wife  of 
John  Stevens  truly.  Despite  all  her  airs  and  efforts 
to  assume  to  herself  a  superiority,  we  know  full 
well  she  hath  her  faults." 

"Verily,  she  hath,"  interposed  a  female  who 
had  her  hood  drawn  low  over  her  face  to  protect  it 
from  the  morning  sun. 

"  And  I  have  heard  that  she  does  lead  poor  John 
Stevens  a  miserable  life.  What  with  her  extrava 
gance,  her  temper,  and  the  way  she  does  hate  his 
old  mother  whom  he  loves,  his  life  must  be  a  bur 
den,"  continued  dame  Woodley. 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  9 

"Little  the  pity  for  him,  though,"  interposed 
the  woman  whose  weak  eyes  were  half -hidden  by 
her  hood. 

"Why  say  ye  so,  Sarah  Drummond?" 

"The  more  fool  he  to  maintain  such  a  creature." 

"Marry!  think  you,  Sarah,  that  a  wife  is  like 
a  shoe  to  be  cast  off  at  will?  John  Stevens  hath 
two  children,  whom  he  loves  as  ardently  as  ever 
parent  loved." 

"I  have  known  Dorothe  Stevens  to  be  kind  and 
gentle,"  interposed  a  woman  who  had  not  spoken 
before. 

"Yet  she  is  haughty,  and  she  would  have  all 
the  world  believe  her  of  superior  flesh  and  blood 
to  ourselves.  Doth  not  the  Scriptures  say  that 
'  Pride  goeth  before  destruction  and  a  haughty  spirit 
before  a  fall'?  Yea,  verily,  I  wish  she  would 
break  her  neck  when  she  doth  fall." 

At  this  moment,  one  of  the  petty  officers  came 
to  the  group  of  gossipers  and  cried: 

"Go  to!  hold  your  peace,  you  prating  dames! 
The  prisoner  comes." 

A  confused  murmur  swelled  to  a  general  hubbub 
as  two  men  appeared  over  the  hill  leading  between 
them  a  woman  about  fifty-five  years  of  age.  She 
was  a  strong,  thin-visaged  woman,  whose  cheek  had 
been  bronzed  by  sun  and  weather.  She  was  bare 
headed,  and  her  hair  was  gathered  in  a  knot  at  the 


10  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

back.  Her  gown,  of  a  thick  woollen  stuff,  fit 
closely  to  her  person,  as  if  it  had  been  made  on 
purpose  for  the  punishment  she  had  been  adjudged 
to  receive.  She  was  talking  in  a  loud  voice  and 
gesticulating  angrily  with  her  head,  for  her  arms 
were  confined. 

"I  will  give  ye  a  piece  of  my  mind,"  she  de 
clared  to  her  guards. 

"Hold  your  peace,  Ann!"  cried  the  eldest  of 
the  guards. 

"Hold  my  peace!  Verily,  I  will  not  hold  my 
peace  about  such  a  hussy  as  Dorothe  Stevens. 
That  I,  a  Christian  and  Puritan,  should  be  ducked 
for  slandering  one  so  foul  as  she!  I  choke  at  the 
thought." 

"Marry!      I  wish  you  were  silent." 

"Silent,  Joshua  Chard,  silent,  indeed!  Think 
ye  that  the  fear  of  all  the  water  in  James  River  will 
awe  me  to  silence?" 

"No,  by  the  mass,  it  will  not,"  answered  his 
companion . 

"Lawrence  Evans,  unholy  papist,  do  not  touch 
me!" 

"I  am  not  a  papist." 

"Come,  Ann  Linkon,  let  us  have  this  execu 
tion  done  with,"  put  in  Joshua,  dragging  the 
woman  along. 

The  scene  was  now  ridiculous  enough  to  excite 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  11 

the  laughter  of  even  the  gravest  Puritans.  The 
pond  and  ducking-stool  were  in  sight,  and  Ann 
Linkon,  with  a  persistence  and  strength  that  was 
marvellous,  began  to  pull  back,  and  when  she  had 
set  her  heels  firmly  in  the  ground  it  required  the 
united  strength  of  both  guards  to  move  her. 

"I  won't  go!  I  won't  be  ducked!  I  won't! 
I  won't!"  she  screamed  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

"Nay,  Ann,  bright  flower  of  loveliness,  you 
shall  have  a  soft  seat." 

"Shame  on  you,  Joshua,  to  drag  an  old  woman 
like  me  by  the  arm." 

"Marry!  I  am  not  dragging  you,  dame  Linkon. 
Your  heels  do  stick  like  a  ploughshare  in  the 
ground." 

The  woman  continued  in  her  sharp,  shrill  voice 
to  upbraid  him: 

"  Ungrateful  wretch,  is  it  thus  you  serve  one  who 
fed  you  in  your  infancy,  when  your  mother  had 
deserted  you?  Unhand  me,  indented  slave,  and 
go  back  to  your  master,  wretch — wretch — wretch!" 
she  hissed,  as  she  went  sliding  on  her  heels,  her 
toes  horizontal  and  her  knees  rigid.  Her  feet 
ploughed  up  the  earth  and  stones,  and  the  crowd 
hooted  and  jeered. 

"Come  on,  Dame  Linkon,  and  take  your  bath," 
cried  some  idle  urchins,  waiting  at  the  water  in 
anticipation  of  rare  sport. 


12  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  victim  continued  to  scream  in  her  shrill 
voice: 

"It's  for  that  hussy!  She  bore  false  witness 
against  me  at  the  court  and  had  me  condemned. 
I  will  be  avenged  for  this!" 

"Marry!  we  will  be  more  damp  than  you,"  said 
Joshua,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead 
with  the  cuff  of  his  coat. 

"Joshua,  is  this  payment  for  what  I  have  done 
for  you?  When  you  were  sick  with  fever  I  sat 
by  your  bedside  and  cared  for  you;  when  no  one 
else  would  cook  your  food,  it  was  I  who  did  it, 
and  is  it  thus  you  requite  me?" 

"  Peace,  good  dame,  I  have  my  duty  to  perform. " 

"Duty;  but  such  a  duty!" 

She  still  braced  her  heels  against  he  ground,  and 
it  required  all  the  strength  of  her  guards  to  push 
and  pull  her  along. 

"Verily,  I  say  such  a  duty,"  answered  Joshua, 
on  whose  grave  features  there  came  a  smile. 
"DameLinkon,  if  you  would  limber  your  joints 
we  could  make  more  speed." 

"I  am  in  no  hurry,"  she  answered. 

"I  believe  you;  yet  if  you  had  not  detained  us, 
this  affair  would  have  been  over." 

The  urchins  and  older  persons  began  to  cry: 

"Hold  back,  Dame  Linkon;  make  them  earn 
their  fees." 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  13 

"I  will  scratch  your  eyes  out!"  she  hissed,  as 
she  was  forced  down  to  the  bank  and  made  to  sit  in 
the  chair.  Joshua  wound  a  strap  about  her  waist 
and  stooped  to  buckle  it,  when,  with  her  freed  hand, 
she  seized  his  hair,  causing  him  to  yell  with  pain. 

"  Prythee,  hold  her  hands,  lest  she  make  good 
her  threat!"  he  cried  to  his  companion. 

The  appearance  of  the  victim  and  her  guards 
brought  everybody  to  their  feet,  and  a  silence  fell 
over  the  group.  The  matrons  ceased  to  gossip; 
the  royalists  left  of!  talking  politics,  and  all  gath 
ered  about  to  witness  the  scene.  Joshua's  com 
panion  held  the  woman's  arms,  and  he  stooped  to 
bind  her  feet  to  the  chair,  when  one  flew  out  like 
a  bolt  from  a  catapult,  planting  the  toe  in  the  pit 
of  poor  Joshua's  stomach,  causing  him  to  roll  over 
on  the  ground  and  howl  with  pain.  The  sheriff  by 
this  time  came  on  the  scene  and  summoned  suf 
ficient  help  to  bind  her  to  the  chair. 

"  See  to  it  that  every  strap  and  cord  is  secure, 
for  if  she  should  fall  she  would  drown,"  said  the 
sheriff,  and  the  men  drew  the  leather  straps  tight, 
while  Ann  Linkon  continued  to  rail  and  abuse  all 
about  her. 

"'Tis  for  the  hussy  that  I  am  to  suffer  this," 
she  cried.  "Dorothe  Stevens  bore  me  false  wit 
ness.  I  never  slandered  her.  There — there  is 
Hugh  Price.  Verily  I  spoke  truly,  as  he  knows." 


14  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Hugh  Price,  the  young  royalist  who  had  been 
talking  politics  with  his  friend  Roger,  blushed. 

At  this  moment,  there  appeared  on  the  scene  a 
young  man  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  whose  light 
blue  eyes  and  frank,  open  face  spoke  honesty  and 
humanity.  His  knit  brows  and  distressed  features 
showed  that  he  was  not  in  accord  with  the  proceed 
ings.  He  led  the  sheriff  aside  and  spoke  hurriedly 
with  him  in  an  undertone,  which  no  one  could 
hear.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  was  making 
some  request  which  the  sheriff  would  not  grant,  for. 
he  shook  his  head  in  a  very  emphatic  manner,  and 
those  nearest  heard  the  official  answer: 

"No,  no,  the  judgment  of  the  court,  the  judg 
ment  of  the  court." 

Dame  Woodley,  turning  to  a  matron  near,  whis 
pered:  "Sarah  Drummond,  there  is  John  Stevens, 
the  husband  of  the  woman  who  had  Ann  Linkon 
adjudged.  How  dare  he  come  here?" 

"For  shame!"  whispered  Sarah  Drummond. 

"Yea,  verily." 

"  I  wonder  he  could  witness  the  wrong  she  hath 
done." 

At  this  a  young  wife  with  a  babe  in  her  arms 
interposed : 

"They  do  say  that  John  Stevens  had  naught  to 
do  with  the  matter  and  did  protest  against  having 
one  so  old  as  Ann  Linkon  ducked." 


THE  DUCKING  STOOL.  15 

"John  Stevens  is  a  godly  man,"  remarked  still 
another.  "He  would  not  wrong  any  one." 

"If  he  were  my  dearest  foe,"  whispered  good- 
wife  Woodley,  "he  would  have  my  sympathy  for 
living  with  Dorothe  Stevens." 

"Whist,  Dame  Woodley;  speak  not  your  mind 
so  freely,"  whispered  Sarah  Drunirnorid,  "for  there 
be  those  in  hearing  on  whose  ears  your  words  had 
best  not  fall." 

All  the  while,  Ann  Linkon  had  been  struggling 
with  her  executioners;  but  now,  helpless  and  ex 
hausted,  she  was  bound  in  the  chair.  The  sheriff, 
who  was  a  humane  man  as  well  as  a  stern  official, 
remonstrated  with  her. 

"Ann  Linkon,  do  not  so  exert  and  heat  yourself, 
or  else  wrhen  you  be  plunged  into  the  water  you 
will  take  your  death." 

"Death!  Take  rny  death!  That  is  what  you 
want,  wretch!"  she  screamed  in  her  shrill  voice. 

"Peace,  dame;  be  still!" 

"I  will  not  be  silent.  She  is  a  hussy.  John 
Stevens,  I  defy  your  wife,"  she  added  as  her  eyes 
lighted  on  Stevens  who  was  near.  "I  told  no 
falsehood  on  her.  Go  to  your  friend  Hugh  Price, 
and  if  he  will  speak  the  truth,  he  will  say  I  spoke 
no  falsehood." 

Again  Stevens  was  seen  talking  with  the  sheriff; 
but  he  shook  his  head  with  the  inexorable: 


16  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"  The  judgment  of  the  court — the  judgment  of 
the  court." 

Stevens  turned  away  with  a  look  of  disappoint 
ment  on  his  face.  The  sight  of  him  seemed  to  in 
crease  the  anger  of  Ann  Linkon,  and  she  railed  and 
struggled  until,  exhausted,  she  panted  for  breath. 
The  sheriff  fanned  her  with  his  hat  until  she  had 
partially  cooled;  but  as  soon  as  she  regained  her 
breath,  she  began  again: 

"It's  a  merry  sight  to  you  all  to  watch  an  old 
woman.  Verily,  I  wish  Satan  would  rend  you 
limb  from  limb,  all  of  ye." 

"  Go  to !  hold  your  peace,  Ann!"  said  the  sheriff. 

"I  will  not,"  she  screamed,  the  froth  appearing 
upon  her  lips. 

"Then  you  shall  be  plunged  hot." 

"I  care  not." 

"It  may  be  your  death." 

"That's  what  ye  want." 

"We  don't." 

"Ye  lie,  ye  wretch!" 

"Ann,  I  will  duck  you  the  full  sentence  if  you 
don't  hold  your  peace." 

"You  are  a  wretch!"  she  screamed. 

The  sheriff  at  this  moment  motioned  the  crowd 
to  stand  back  and  gave  the  signal  to  his  two  assist 
ants,  who  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  pole  and 
seized  the  rope  dangling  there. 


'I'LL  SCKATCU  vouu  EYES  OUT!' 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  1? 

"You  are  a  white-livered  wretch!"  the  scold 
again  yelled.  At  this  moment  she  went  soaring 
off  into  the  air.  A  piercing  shriek  came  from  her 
lips  as  she  found  herself  swinging  out  ovor  the 
pond.  "I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out!" 

"Let  her  down,"  commanded  the  sheriff,  and 
the  men  holding  the  rope  allowed  it  to  slip  through 
their  hands,  and  the  woman  in  the  chair  darted 
down  toward  the  water. 

"I  said  it,  as  I  say  it  yet;  she's  a  hussy!  she's 
a  hussy!"  shrieked  the  woman,  whose  vocabulary 
was  insufficient  for  her  rage.  The  chair  rapidly 
descended  until  it  struck  the  water  with  a  splash, 
pushing  the  waves  on  either  side  and  letting  the 
scold  down,  down  into  the  cold  liquid.  She  gave 
utterance  to  a  yell  when  she  found  the  water  com 
ing  up  over  her  breast,  almost  taking  her  breath. 

She  was  drawn  all  dripping  from  the  pond  and 
elevated  high  in  the  air  so  everybody  could  see 
her.  A  wild  yell  went  up  from  the  crowd,  and  an 
impudent  urchin  cried: 

"Ann  Linkon,  how  like  you  your  bath?" 

"I'll  scratch  your  eyes  out!"  she  shrieked,  then 
again  began  to  denounce  her  prosecutor  as  she 
once  more  descended,  repeating,  "She's  a  hussy!" 

Down,  down  she  went  into  the  water,  until  it 
came  to  her  chin,  causing  her  to  utter  another 
shriek.  Again  she  was  lifted  high  in  the  air.  The 
2 


18  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

sheriff,  who  was  superintending  the  enforcement  of 
the  sentence,  turned  to  his  assistants  and  said: 

"You  do  not  dip  her  under;  let  the  stool  go 
lower. " 

As  Ann  Linkon  descended  for  the  last  time,  she 
seemed  to  gather  up  all  her  energies  and,  in  a 
voice  overflowing  with  hate,  shrieked: 

"It's  true!     She  is  a  hussy!" 

Plunging  down,  down,  down,  until  ducking- 
stool  and  occupant  were  completely  buried  beneath 
the  water,  sank  the  victim,  and  on  the  air  came  a 
gurgling  sound:  "She's  a  hussy!"  The  sheriff's 
assistants  gave  the  rope  a  sudden  pull,  and  in  an 
instant  the  choking,  strangling  creature  soared  up 
in  the  air,  gasping  for  breath  with  the  water  run 
ning  in  streams  from  her  garments.  She  made 
several  efforts  to  speak,  but  in  vain.  Her  mouth, 
nostrils,  eyes  and  ears  were  full  of  water,  and  she 
could  only  gasp.  Poor  Ann  Linkon  was  humili 
ated  and  crushed.  A  ducking  was  a  light  punish 
ment,  yet  the  disgrace  which  attached  to  it  was 
sufficient  to  break  the  spirit  of  one  possessing  any 
pride.  The  sheriff  turned  to  his  assistants  and 
said: 

"Put  her  on  shore." 

The  people  gave  way,  and  the  stool  swung  round 
on  the  pivot  and  was  lowered  to  the  sands.  The 
sport  was  over,  and  the  cavaliers  began  to  jest  and 


THE  DUCKING-STOOL.  19 

laugh  over  the  scene,  which,  to  them,  had  been 
one  of  amusement.  Hugh  and  Roger  once  more 
retired  to  talk  of  politics,  and  the  Dame  Woodley, 
turning  to  Sarah  Drummond,  asked  if  she  thought 
public  morals  had  been  improved  by  such  a  dis 
graceful  scene.  But  few  expressions  of  sympathy 
were  offered  to  the  coughing,  shivering,  dripping 
woman,  who  sat  silently  in  the  chair  upon  the 
sands.  She  was  meek  enough  now  when  the  guards 
came  to  unbuckle  the  straps  and  free  her.  Even 
after  she  was  released,  she  sat  in  the  chair,  stran 
gling,  coughing  and  shivering. 

John  Stevens  made  his  way  through  the  crowd 
and,  going  up  to  the  woman,  who  seemed  almost 
lifeless,  began: 

"Dame  Linkon,  I  am  most  truly  sorry  that  this 
has  been  done — 

At  sound  of  his  voice,  the  half-inanimate  form 
seemed  suddenly  inspired  with  life  and  vigor,  and, 
bounding  to  her  feet  with  a  shriek  of  rage,  she  dealt 
him  a  blow  with  her  open  hand  on  the  side  of  his 
head,  which  made  him  see  more  stars  than  can 
usually  be  discerned  on  the  clearest  night.  lie 
staggered  and,  but  for  the  sheriff,  would  have 
fallen. 


CHAPTER   II. 

SEEKING   BETTER  FORTUNE. 

On  peace  and  rest  my  mind  was  bent, 

And  fool  I  was  I  married ; 
But  never  honest  man's  intent 

As  cursedly  miscarried. 

— BURNS. 

IN  Virginia's  colonial  clays,  no  man  was  better 
known  than  John  Smith  Stevens.  His  father  was 
one  of  the  original  founders  of  Jamestown  and,  it 
was  said,  had  felled  the  first  tree  to  build  the  city. 
John  Smith  was  his  first  born,  and  was  named  in 
honor  of  Captain  John  Smith,  a  personal  friend. 

John  Smith  Stevens  was  born  about  the  year 
1625,  the  same  year  that  Governor  Wyat  defeated 
the  Indians.  He  was  four  years  of  age  when  John 
Harvey  became  colonial  governor  in  1629,  and  a 
year  later,  1630,  Sir  George  Calvert  came  to  James 
town  on  his  way  to  colonize  Maryland  under  the 
charter  of  Lord  Baltimore.  He  was  old  enough  to 
remember  the  stormy  days  in  the  assembly,  when, 
on  the  "28th  of  April,  1635,  Sir  John  Harvey 
thrust  out  of  his  government,  and  Captain  John 

20 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.  21 

West  acts  as  Governor  till  the  king's  pleasure  is 
known."  He  never  knew  exactly  why  Sir  John 
Harvey  was  thrust  out;  but  he  heard  some  one  say 
he  was  interfering  with  the  liberties  of  the  people. 

He  knew  that  the  king  replaced  him,  however. 
Then  the  people  said  that  all  Virginia  was  divided 
into  eight  /Shires:  James  City,  Henrico,  Charles 
City,  Elizabeth  City,  Warwick  River,  Warrosquo- 
yake,  Charles.  River,  and  Accawmacke,  and  that 
a  lieutenant  was  appointed  over  each  to  protect 
them  against  the  Indians.  John  Stevens  remem 
bered  when  William  Claybourne,  the  famous  rebel 
of  colonial  Virginia,  tried  to  urge  the  people,  against 
the  will  of  the  king,  to  drive  the  colonists  out  of 
Maryland,  which  they  claimed  as  a  part  of  their 
domain. 

Claybourne  established  a  colony  at  Kent  Island, 
from  whence  a  burgess  was  sent.  Leonard  Calvert 
was  governor  of  Maiyland,  and  a  misunderstanding 
arose  between  him  and  Claybourne  on  Kent  Island. 
Claybourne  must  go,  for  the  island  was  part  of 
Maryland,  although  the  right  of  his  lordship's  pat 
ent  was  yet  undetermined  in  England.  Claybourne 
resisted.  lie  declared  that  he  was  on  Virginia  ter 
ritory  by  the  king's  patent,  and  was  the  owner  of 
Kent  Island,  and  that  he  meant  to  stay  there.  He 
would  also  sail  to  and  fro  in  his  trading  ship,  the 
Longlail,  to  traffic  with  the  Indians.  If  he  were 


22  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

attacked  he  would  defend  himself.  He  soon  had 
an  opportunity  to  make  good  his  boasts.  Leonard 
Calvert  seized  the  Longtail,  and  Claybourne  sent  a 
swift  pinnace  with  fourteen  fighting  men  to  recap 
ture  her.  This  was  in  the  year  1634,  when  John 
Stevens  was  nine  years  of  age;  but  the  affair  was 
the  talk  of  the  time,  and  consequently  was  indeli 
bly  stamped  on  his  young  mind.  Two  Maryland 
pinnaces  went  to  meet  Claybourne,  and  a  desperate 
fight  occurred  on  the  Potomac  River.  A  volley 
of  musket-balls  was  poured  into  Claybourne' s 
pinnace,  and  three  of  his  men  fell  dead.  Calvert 
captured  the  pinnace;  but  Claybourne  escaped. 
He  was  driven  from  Kent  Island  and  escaped  to 
Virginia;  but  Sir  John  Harvey  refused  to  surren 
der  him,  and  John  Stevens  saw  the  rebel  when  he 
embarked  for  England,  where  he  made  a  strong 
fight  before  the  throne  for  Kent  Island.  Although 
he  seemed  for  a  while  about  to  triumph,  the  lords 
commissioners  of  plantations  finally  decided  against 
his  claims,  thus  dispelling  the  rosy  dreams  of  Clay- 
bourne. 

In  1642,  there  came  to  Virginia  as  governor  of 
the  colony  Sir  William  Berkeley,  then  almost  forty 
years  of  age,  when  John  Stevens  was  only  seventeen. 
Berkeley  was  a  man  of  charming  manners,  pro 
verbially  polite,  and  he  delighted  the  Virginians, 
who  had  a  weakness  for  courtliness.  He  belonged 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.  23 

to  an  ancient  English  family,  and  believed  in  mon 
archy  as  a  devotee  believes  in  his  saint,  "and  he 
brought  to  the  little  capital  at  Jamestown  all  the 
graces,  amenities,  and  well-bred  ways  which  at 
that  time  were  characteristic  of  the  cavaliers.  He 
was  a  cavalier  of  the  cavaliers,  taking  the  word  to 
signify  an  adherent  of  monarchy  and  the  established 
church,"  and  thoroughly  hated  anything  resem 
bling  republicanism.  For  his  king  and  church, 
this  smiling  gentleman,  with  his  easy  and  friendly 
air,  was  going  to  fight  like  a  tiger  or  a  ruffian. 
Under  his  glove  of  velvet  was  a  hand  of  iron,  which 
would  fall  inexorably  alike  on  the  New  England 
Puritans  and  the  followers  of  Bacon.  With  the 
courage  of  his  convictions,  he  was  ready  to  deal 
out  banishment  for  the  dissenters;  shot  and  the 
halter  for  rebels.  He  lived  on  his  estate  of  about 
a  thousand  acres  at  Greenspring,  not  far  from 
Jamestown.  "Here  he  had  plate,  servants,  car 
riages,  seventy  horses,  fifteen  hundred  apple  trees, 
besides  apricots,  peaches,  pears,  quinces  and  raelli- 
cottons.  When,  in  the  stormy  times,  the  poor 
cavaliers  flocked  to  Virginia  to  find  a  place  of  ref 
uge,  he  entertained  them  after  a  roval  fashion  in 

O        7 

this  Greenspring  Manor  house.  As  to  the  Virgin 
ians,  they  were  always  welcome,  so  that  they  did 
not  belong  to  the  independents,  haters  of  the  church 
and  king." 


24  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

From  the  very  first,  John  Stevens  did  not  like 
Governor  Berkeley  and  in  a  short  time  learned  that 
he  was  a  tyrant.  Berkeley  issued  his  proclamation 
against  the  Puritan  pastors,  prohibiting  their  teach 
ing  or  preaching  publicly  or  privately. 

John  Smith  Stevens  participated  in  the  Indian 
war  in  1644,  and  saw  Opechancanough,  at  this 
time  almost  a  hundred  years  of  age,  captured  and 
brought  to  Jamestown,  where  he  requested  his 
captors  to  hold  open  his  eyes,  that  he  might  see  and 
upbraid  Sir  William  Berkeley  for  making  a  public 
exhibition  of  him.  A  short  hour  afterward  the 
aged  chieftain  was  treacherously  wounded  by  his 
guard. 

In  the  year  1648,  John  Stevens  married  Dorothe 
Collier,  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman  of  the  church 
of  England.  This  naturally  united  him  to  the 
cavalier  or  church  party,  while  his  mother,  brother 
and  sister  were  Puritans.  Sometimes  John  thought 
he  had  the  best  wife  living,  at  others  he  was  almost 
persuaded  that  she  was  intolerable.  She  was  a 
beautiful  brunette,  with  great  dark  eyes  which 
smiled  when  the  sky  was  fair,  but  in  which  ap 
peared  the  lustre  of  a  tigress  when  enraged.  Love 
in  its  full  strength  and  beauty  seldom  dwells  in 
the  heart  of  both  husband  and  wife  through  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  life.  It  was  so  in  John's  case. 
When  the  honeymoon  waned  and  practical  exist- 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.       25 

ence  began,  the  wife  became  ambitious  for  a  more 
showy  manner  of  life  and  more  pleasures  than  the 
husband  could  afford.  He  was  prosperous;  but 
his  wife's  extravagance,  in  which  he  indulged  her 
at  first,  kept  him  poor.  Poverty  became  a  burden 
and  marriage  a  mockery.  He  who  had  been  in 
sanely  in  love,  and  who  was  unable  to  live  out 
of  her  presence,  proved  an  indifferent  husband  be 
fore  the  honeymoon  was  over.  Why?  John  had 
thought  his  wife  an  angel,  and  marriage  had  shat 
tered  his  idol.  His  ideal  woman  had  fallen  so  far 
below  his  expectations  that  disappointment  drove 
him  to  indifference.  His  wife  thought  herself  his 
superior,  and  John,  to  her,  was  more  a  convenience 
than  a  husband. 

Gradually  Dorothe  grew  indifferent  toward  her 
husband's  mother  and  young  sister,  who  idolized 
him,  and  though  they  bore  her  no  thought  of  ill, 
she  came  to  despise  them.  John 'smother  saw  that 
her  son's  wife  was  ruining  him  by  her  extrava 
gance,  yet  she  dared  not  interpose  as  it  would  make 
the  rapture  complete.  Dorothe  was  a  haughty 
cavalier  and  despised  all  Puritans  and,  most  of  all, 
her  husband's  mother;  but  the  cavaliers  were  in 
trouble.  King  Charles  was  tried,  condemned  and 
beheaded  in  1649,  and  a  protectorate  (Oliver  Crom 
well)  ruled  over  England  a  few  months  after  the 
execution  of  the  king.  John  Stevens'  wife  gave 


26  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

birth  to  a  son  wlio  was  named  Robert  for  his  wife's 
father. 

Though  England  was  a  commonwealth,  Virginia 
remained  loyal  to  the  wandering  prince,  who  slept 
in  oaks  and  had  more  adventures  than  any  other 
man  of  his  day.  Berkeley,  it  is  said,  even  in 
vited  him  to  come  and  rule  over  Virginia,  assuring 
him  of  his  support;  but  Parliament  took  notice  of 
the  saucy  colony  and,  in  1650,  ordered  a  fleet  to 
conquer  it.  The  fleet  did  not  reach  Jamestown 
until  1652,  when,  after  a  little  fluster,  Sir  William 
Berkeley  retired  to  Greenspring,  and  the  govern 
ment  was  turned  over  to  the  roundheads,  who  chose 
Richard  Bennet,  Esquire,  to  be  governor  of  the  col 
ony  for  one  year.  On  the  day  of  Bennet' s  inaug 
uration,  John  Steven's  second  child,  a  daughter, 
whom  he  named  Rebecca,  was  born.  These  two 
links  of  love  made  his  wife  more  dear  to  him.  At 
times  she  was  pleasant;  but  usually  she  studied  to 
thwart  his  will.  She  was  humbled  with  the  cava 
liers  and  hated  the  Puritans.  Ann  Linkon,  an  old 
woman  given  to  gossiping,  incurred  the  displeas 
ure  of  Dorothe  Stevens,  because  she  gossiped  about 
her  extravagance.  She  had  her  arrested,  con 
demned  and  ducked  as  we  have  seen.  There  was 
no  open  rupture  between  Dorothe  and  her  husband's 
relatives.  She  still  greeted  them  with  half -smiles; 
but  those  half-smiles  were  cold  and  uncongenial, 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.  27 

and  there  seemed  to  be  a  settled  purpose  on  her 
part  as  well  as  theirs  to  dislike  each  other.  To  no 
one  did  Dorothe  express  this  dislike  save  to  her 
husband,  and  to  him  she  never  lost  an  opportunity 
for  doing  so. 

In  1654,  Clay  bourne,  who  was  in  possession  of 
Kent  Island,  was  threatened  by  the  Catholics  from 
Maryland,  and  John  Stevens,  with  his  friend  Hugh 
Price  and  half  a  dozen  more,  went  to  aid  in  the 
defence  of  the  island.  They  camped  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Severn,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  present  city  of 
Annapolis,  where  they  were  joined  by  Claybourne 
and  a  body  of  three  hundred  men. 

On  the  25th  of  March,  1054,  Stone  sailed  with  a 
force  down  the  river,  landed  and  attacked  Clay- 
bourne.  At  early  dawn  the  sleeping  Puritans  were 
awakened  by  the  boom  of  cannon  and  volleys  of 
muskets.  They  arose,  formed  their  lines  of  battle 
and  poured  a  tremendous  fire  upon  the  enemy. 
The  Marylanders  landed  and  tried  to  storm  their 
fort;  but  after  an  hour  retreated,  leaving  twenty 
killed  and  twice  as  many  wounded  on  the  field. 
Claybourne  had  conquered  and,  for  a  brief  space 
of  time,  was  to  hold  sway  over  the  Severn  and 
Kent  Island. 

John  Stevens  returned  to  his  home  to  find  that  his 
wife's  extravagance  had  impoverished  his  estates 
and  almost  brought  him  to  beggary.  He  had  re- 


38  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

monstrated  with  her  without  avail.  She  wrecked 
her  husband's  fortune  for  a  few  weeks  of  vain 
show. 

"Were  you  more  prudent,  Dorothe,"  said  John, 
"  we  could  soon  live  at  ease.  I  have  fine  estates 
and  earn  money  sufficient  to  make  us  comfortable 
for  life  and  leave  a  competency  for  our  children." 

"Peace,  man!  Do  you  disdain  to  labor  for  your 
wife  and  children?  Do  not  other  men  support  their 
families,  and  why  not  you,  pray?" 

"But  other  men  have  helpmates  in  their  wives." 

This  was  the  spark  which  ignited  the  hidden 
fires.  Her  black  eyes  blazed,  and  her  breast 
heaved.  She  upbraided  him  until  lie  withdrew 
and,  mounting  his  horse,  rode  away.  At  night  he 
returned  to  find  his  wife  silent  and  morose,  and 
for  nine  days  they  scarcely  spoke.  This  life  was 
trying  to  John. 

After  a  few  days  she  grew  more  amiable  and  ex 
pressed  sympathy  with  her  husband  in  his  financial 
straits. 

"I  am  going  to  economize,"  she  declared.  "I 
will  take  no  heed  what  I  shall  eat,  nor  what  I  shall 
drink,  nor  wherewithal  I  shall  be  clothed." 

Again  for  the  thousandth  time  he  took  heart. 
After  all,  Dorothe  might  become  a  helpmate.  She 
was  so  beautiful  and  so  cheerful  in  her  pleasanter 
moods  that  he  thought  her  a  treasure.  When  he 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.  29 

took  his  baby  on  his  knee  and  felt  her  soft,  warm 
cheek  against  his  own,  lie  realized  that  life  might 
be  endurable  even  in  adversity. 

One  evening,  as  they  talked  over  his  financial 
troubles,  he  said: 

"Our  family  has  a  fortune  in  Florida." 

At  the  name  of  fortune,  Mrs.  Stevens'  head  be 
came  erect,  and  she  was  all  attention  like  a  war- 
horse  at  the  blast  of  a  trumpet. 

"  If  you  have  a  fortune  there,  why  don't  you  go 
and  get  it?"  she  asked. 

"We  would,  I  trow,  did  we  know  we  could 
have  it  for  the  going,"  he  made  answer. 

"And  wherefore  can  you  not?" 

"  St.  Augustine  is  under  the  Spanish  rule,  and 
we  know  not  that  they  will  permit  an  Englishman 
even  to  inherit  property  there.  My  grandfather 
was  a  Spaniard  and  died  possessed  of  valuable 
property." 

"  Can  you  not  get  it?  Can  you  not  get  it?"  she 
asked. 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Try." 

"We  have  thought  to  try  it." 

His  brother  was  sent  to  Florida,  but  failed, 
though  assured  by  the  lawyers  that  they  might  in 
time  recover  it. 

There  is  no  business  so  unprofitable  as  waiting 


30  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

for  dead  men's  money.  Fortune  flies  at  pursuit 
and  smiles  on  the  indifferent. 

The  prospects  of  John  Stevens  were  certainly  at 
a  low  ebb,  and  he  found  his  affairs  daily  growing 
worse.  Large  consignments  of  tobacco  sent  to 
England  remained  unpaid  for,  and  he  stood  in 
danger  of  losing  all.  He  thought  of  making  a 
voyage  to  London  for  the  purpose  of  looking  after 
his  accounts.  John  Stevens  had  never  been  away 
from  his  family,  save  in  the  short  campaign  on  the 
Severn,  and  he  dreaded  to  leave  home.  He  loved 
his  children  and,  despite  her  faults,  he  loved  his 
wife.  As  he  held  his  baby  in  his  arms  and  listened 
to  her  gentle  crowing  and  heard  the  merry  prattle 
of  his  boy  at  play,  he  asked  himself  if  he  should 
ever  see  those  children  again,  were  he  to  go 
away. 

John  had  three  friends  in  whom  he  reposed  great 
confidence.  They  were  Drummond,  Lawerence, 
and  Cheeseman.  One  evening  he  met  them  at  the 
home  of  Drummond  and,  relating  his  condition, 
asked : 

"Knowing  all  as  you  do,  what  do  you  ad 
vise?" 

"By  all  means,  go  to  London,"  answered  Drum 
mond. 

"Ought  I  to  leave  my  wife  and  children?" 

"Wherefore  not?" 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.       8) 

"If  I  perish  on  the  voyage,  they  will  be  wholly 
unprovided  for." 

"  Your  father  was  a  sailor." 

"But  his  son  is  not." 

"  Yet  methinks  the  son  should  inherit  some  of 
the  father's  courage." 

John  Stevens'  cheek  reddened  at  the  delicate  in 
sinuation  against  his  courage,  and  he  responded: 

"Have  I  not,  on  more  than  one  hard-fought 
field,  established  my  claim  to  courage?" 

"True,  yet  why  shrink  from  this  voyage?" 

"  A  soothsayer  once  predicted  that  dire  calami 
ties  would  overcome  rnc,  were  I  ever  to  venture 
upon  the  sea." 

At  this  Cheeseman  and  Druramond  laughed 
and  even  the  thoughtful  Mr.  Lawerence  smiled. 
Though  soothsayers  in  those  days  were  not  gener 
ally  gainsaid,  those  four  men  at  Drummond's  house 
lived  in  advance  of  their  age. 

"Go  on  your  voyage  and  save  the  sum  in  jeop 
ardy,"  was  Drummond's  advice. 

"If  your  going  will  make  sure  the  sum,  hesitate 
not  a  single  moment,"  interposed  Cheeseman. 

"How  much  is  involved?"  asked  the  thoughtful 
Mr.  Lawerence. 

"Eight  hundred  pounds." 

"Quite  a  sum." 

"  Verily,  it  is.      The  amount  would  at  this  day 


32  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

relieve  all  my  embarrassments;  yet,  if  I  go,  I  leave 
nothing  behind,  for  my  property  is  gone,  and  my 
family  is  unprovided  for." 

"  Secure  the  eight  hundred  pounds  and  provide 
for  them." 

With  this  advice  in  mind,  he  went  home,  and 
that  same  evening  Hugh  Price,  the  young  royalist, 
who  lived  with  Sir  William  Berkeley  at  Green- 
spring,  called  to  see  him,  and  once  more  the  voyage 
to  London  was  discussed. 

"By  all  means,  go,"  Hugh  advised.  "It  is 
your  duty  to  go." 

Mrs.  Stevens  was  consulted  and  thought  she 
should  go  also;  she  saw  no  reason  in  his  taking  a 
pleasure  voyage  and  leaving  his  wife  at  home;  but 
this  was  out  of  the  question,  for  the  baby  was  too 
young  to  endure  the  voyage;  besides,  the  cost  of 
taking  her  would  more  than  double  the  expense. 
Then  Mrs.  Stevens,  who  thought  only  of  a  pleasant 
time,  wanted  to  know  why  she  could  not  be  sent 
in  his  stead.  He  explained  that  it  was  a  matter  of 
business  which  a  woman  could  not  perform;  but 
Mrs.  Stevens  became  unreasonable,  declaring: 

"  You  wish  to  go  to  London  and  pass  your  time 
in  gay  society." 

"I  do  not,"  he  answered. 

"Verily,  you  do.  You  tire  already  of  your 
wife;  you  would  seek  another." 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.  33 

"Dorothe,  I  would  wed  no  other  woman  living," 
answered  John,  with  a  sigh. 

"They  all  say  that;  yet  no  sooner  is  the  wife 
laid  in  the  grave  than  they  are  anxious  to  find  one 
younger  and  more  fair." 

"Women  do  the  same,"  John  ventured  to  urge 
in  defence  of  his  sex. 

"Not  so  often  as  the  men." 

Then  Mrs.  Stevens  began  a  harangue  on  the 
evils  of  second  marriages  and  wound  up  by  declar 
ing  they  were  compacts  of  the  devil.  John  Stevens 
returned  to  the  original  question  of  his  going  to 
London. 

"My  friends  all  declare  that  it  is  my  duty  to 
go,"  he  said. 

"Your  friends!  who  are  your  friends?" 

"Drummond." 

"An  ignorant  Scotchman." 

Drummond  was  far  from  being  ignorant,  yet  he 
stood  not  in  favor  with  Mrs.  Stevens. 

"Mr.  Lawerence  advises  it." 

"He  is  a  canting  hypocrite." 

"  Mr.  Edward  Cheeseman  also  thinks  it  advisa 
ble." 

"Verily,  he  is  a  scheming  man,  who  will  swin 
dle  you  out  of  the  eight  hundred  pounds  when  you 
have  secured  it." 

"Hugh  Price  agrees  with  them." 
3 


34  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Does  he?"  asked  Mrs.  Stevens. 

"He  does." 

"I  don't  believe  it." 

Hugh  Price  was,  in  her  estimation,  the  perfec 
tion  of  manhood.  He  was  of  the  same  church,  a 
thorough  royalist  and  a  close  friend  of  Sir  William 
Berkeley  the  deposed  governor. 

"Dorothe,  I  said  he  recommended  it.  Pray  do 
not  doubt  it." 

The  matter  was  settled  next  day  when  Hugh 
Price  himself  said  to  Mrs.  Stevens  that  it  was  best 
for  her  husband  to  go.  She  secretly  resolved  that 
during  her  husband's  absence  she  would  enjoy 
herself. 

"John,"  she  said,  "if  you  are  going  away  to 
London  to  enjoy  yourself,  you  must  leave  with 
me  two  or  three  hundred  pounds." 

John  Stevens  interrupted  her  with  a  sarcastic 
laugh. 

"  Dorothe,  had  I  two  or  three  hundred  pounds, 
I  would  not  go." 

"Verily,  how  do  you  expect  me  to  pass  the 
dreary  interval  of  your  absence,  if  I  have  no  luxu 
ries.  " 

"Luxuries  in  our  poor  country  are  uncommon, 
and  what  few  we  have  are  expensive.  Think  not 
of  luxuries,  but  rather  of  necessities.  Husband 
the  little  money  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  you  and 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE.       35 

be  prepared  against  adversity.  I  may  never  re 
turn." 

"Wherefore  not?"  cried  Mrs.  Stevens.  "Do 
you  contemplate  an  elopement?  You  were  seen 
holding  converse  with  Susan  Colgate." 

Mrs.  Stevens  had,  among  other  weaknesses, 
enough  of  the  "green-eyed  monster  "  to  make  her 
self  miserable.  Susan  Colgate  was  a  pretty  maiden 
at  Jamestown,  whose  charms  John  Stevens  had 
praised  in  his  wife's  presence.  He  smiled  at  her 
interruption  and,  after  assuring  her  that  he  had  no 
intention  of  eloping,  said: 

"The  ship  may  sink;  then  you  and  these  two 
little  children  will  be  unprovided  for.  I  beseech 
you,  husband  the  little  I  leave." 

"Have  no  fears,  I  shall  care  for  them  in  some 
way;  but  I  am  not  going  to  forego  anything  in 
anticipation  of  disaster.  Surely  you  will  come 
back.  My  great  grief  at  the  absence  of  my  hus 
band  will  rend  my  heart  so  sorely  that  I  must  needs 
have  some  pleasure  to  drive  away  the  sorrow  and 
perpetuate  the  bloom  on  these  cheeks  and  the  bright 
ness  in  these  eyes  for  you." 

Silly  John  Stevens  yielded  to  his  wife  and  con 
sented  to  set  apart  for  luxuries  some  of  the  small 
amount  he  was  to  leave.  Mrs.  Stevens  was  born 
'to  squander.  Ann  Linkon  had  said  of  her: 

"She  could   cast  from   the  window  more  than 


36  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

the  good  husband  could  throw  in  at  the  door." 
But  Ann  was  adjudged  of  slander,  and  ducked  for 
the  charge. 

John  paid  his  mother  a  visit  before  departing. 
That  sweet,  gentle  mother  greeted  her  unhappy 
son  with  tears.  It  was  seldom  Dorothe  permitted 
him  to  visit  her.  His  mother  knew  it  and  always 
assumed  a  cheerfulness  she  was  far  from  feeling. 
Ofttimes  poor  John  had  a  hard  struggle  between 
duty  to  his  mother  and  fidelity  to  wife.  It  was  a 
struggle  in  which  no  earthly  friend  could  aid  him. 

The  day  to  sail  came.  At  an  early  hour  the 
vessel  was  to  weigh  anchor,  and  just  as  the  ap 
proaching  day  began  to  paint  the  eastern  horizon 
an  orange  hue,  John  rose  and  prepared  to  depart. 
All  the  town  was  quiet.  His  children  were  sleep 
ing,  and  he  bent  over  them  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon 
the  cheek  of  each,  murmuring  a  faint: 

"God  bless  you!" 

"Shall  I  awake  them?"  his  wife  asked. 

"No,  no;  the  parting  will  be  much  easier  if 
they  sleep. 

"Dear,  I  do  so  regret  your  going!"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Stevens,  genuine  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes. 

"  Heaven  grant,  Dorothe,  it  may  not  be  for  long. " 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  the  boat,"  she  said,  hur 
riedly  dressing  herself. 

John's  small  effects  had  been  carried  aboard  the 


SEEKING  BETTER  FORTUNE. 


37 


evening  before,  so  lie  had  only  to  go  on  board 
himself.  As  Mrs.  Stevens  buckled  her  shoes,  she 
repeated : 

"  I  do  so  regret  your  going.  I  shall  be  so  anx 
ious  about  you  and  so  lonesome." 

John  heard  her,  but  made  no  answer.  He  was 
standing  with  folded  arms  gazing  on  his  sleeping 


ONCE  MORE  HE  BENT  OVER  THE  SLEEPING  CHILDREN. 

children.  Moisture  gathered  in  his  eyes,  and  he 
murmured  a  silent  but  fervent  prayer  to  God  to 
bless  and  spare  them.  There  came  a  knock  at  the 
door.  It  was  a  sailor  come  to  tell  him  the  boat 


38  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

was  waiting  to  carry  him  on  board  the  ship,  that 
the  tide  and  wind  were  fair  and  they  only  awaited 
his  arrival  to  sail. 

Once  more  he  tenderly  bent  over  the  sleeping 
children  and  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  face  of  each. 
A  tear  fell  on  the  chubby  cheek  of  little  Eebecca, 
causing  her  to  smile. 

"  Farewell,  little  darling!"  and  the  father  quitted 
his  home  and,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  hurried  to 
the  beach.  Here  was  a  short  pause,  a  last  em 
brace,  a  fond  adieu,  and  the  husband  left  the  weep 
ing  wife  on  the  strand,  while  he  was  rowed  to  the 
great  ship  which  had  already  begun  to  hoist  anchor. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    COLONIES    OF    THE    NEW    WORLD. 

We  love 

The  king  who  loves  the  law,  respects  his  bounds, 
And  reigns  content  within  them  ;  him  we  serve 
Freely  and  with  delight,  who  leaves  us  free : 
But  recollecting  still  that  he  is  a  man, 
We  trust  him  not  too  far. 

— COWPER. 

THE  Dutch,  who  still  held  possession  of  Manhat 
tan  Island  and  the  territory  now  known  as  New 
York,  were  not  enjoying  the  peace  and  tranquillity 
promised  the  just.  Because  some  swine  had  been 
stolen  from  the  plantation  of  De  Yries  on  Staten 
Island,  the  Dutch  governor  sent  an  armed  force  to 
chastise  the  innocent  Raritans  in  New  Jersey,  be 
lieving  that  a  show  of  power  would  disarm  the  ven 
geance  of  the  savages.  The  event  was  so  grossly 
unjust  that  it  not  only  aroused  the  Raritans,  but 
all  neighboring  tribes,  and  they  prepared  for  war. 
The  hitherto  peaceful  Raritans  killed  the  whites 
whenever  they  found  them  alone  in  the  forest. 
Fifteen  years  before  some  of  Minuet's  men  mur- 


40  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

dered  an  Indian  belonging  to  a  tribe  seated  beyond 
the  Harlem  River.  His  nephew,  then  a  boy,  who 
saw  the  outrage  and  made  a  vow  of  vengeance, 
had  now  grown  to  be  a  lusty  man.  He  executed 
his  vow  by  murdering  a  wheelwright  while  he  was 
examining  his  tool-chest  for  a  tool,  cleaving  his 
skull  with  an  axe.  Governor  Kieft  demanded  the 
murderer;  but  his  chief  would  not  give  him  up, 
saying  he  had  sought  vengeance  according  to  the 
customs  of  his  race. 

The  governor,  who  cared  little  for  the  "customs 
of  the  race,"  determined  to  chastise  that  tribe  as 
he  had  the  Raritans,  and  called  upon  the  people  to 
shoulder  their  muskets  for  the  fray ;  but  they,  see 
ing  the  danger  to  which  the  rashness  of  the  gov 
ernor  was  leading  them,  refused.  They  had  been 
witnesses  of  his  rapacity  and  greed,  and  they  now 
charged  him  with  seeking  war  that  he  might  "  make 
a  wrong  reckoning  with  the  colony,"  and  reproached 
him  with  selfish  cowardice. 

"It  is  all  well  for  you,"  they  said,  "who  have 
not  slept  out  of  a  fort  a  single  night  since  you 
came,  to  endanger  our  lives  and  homes  in  unde 
fended  places." 

The  autocrat  was  transformed  by  the  bold  atti 
tude  of  the  people.  Reason  dawned  upon  his  dull 
brain,  and  he  invited  all  the  heads  of  families  in 
New  Amsterdam  to  meet  him  in  convention  to 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        41 

consult  upon  public  affairs.  The  result  of  this  in 
vitation  was  the  selection  of  twelve  men  to  act  as 
representatives  for  the  people,  which  formed  the 
first  popular  assembly  and  first  representative  con 
gress  for  political  purposes  in  the  New  Netherlands, 
Thus  were  planted  the  seeds  of  a  representative 
democracy,  in  the  year  164-1,  almost  on  the  very 
spot  where,  a  century  and  a  half  later,  our  great 
republic,  founded  upon  similar  principles,  was  in 
augurated,  when  Washington  took  the  oath  of 
office  as  the  first  president  of  the  United  States. 

These  twelve  representatives  of  the  people  chose 
De  Vries  as  president  of  their  number.  To  that 
body  the  governor  submitted  the  question  whether 
the  murderer  of  the  wheelwright  ought  to  be  de 
manded  of  his  chief,  and  whether,  in  case  of  the 
chief's  refusal,  the  Dutch  ought  to  make  war  upon 
his  tribe  and  burn  the  village  wherein  he  dwelt. 
The  twelve  counselled  peace  and  proceeded  to  con 
sider  the  propriety  of  establishing  a  government 
similar  to  that  of  the  fatherland.  To  this  the  gov 
ernor  cunningly  agreed  to  make  popular  concessions 
if  the  twelve  would  authorize  him  to  make  war  on 
the  offending  tribe  at  the  proper  time,  to  which 
they  foolishly  assented.  Then  the  surly  governor 
dissolved  them,  saying  he  had  no  further  use  for 
them,  and  forbade  any  popular  assemblage  there 
after. 


42  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Next  spring  (1642)  Kieft  sent  an  expedition 
against  the  offending  tribe,  but  a  treaty  disap 
pointed  his  thirst  for  military  glory.  The  river 
Indians  were  tributary  to  the  Mohawks,  and  in 
midwinter,  1643,  a  large  party  of  thelroquois  came 
down  to  collect  by  force  of  arms  tribute  which  had 
not  been  paid.  The  natives  along  the  lower  Hud 
son,  to  the  number  of  about  five  hundred,  fled  be 
fore  the  invaders,  taking  refuge  with  the  Hacken- 
sacks  at  Hoboken  and  craving  the  protection  of 
the  Dutch.  At  the  same  time  many  of  the  offend 
ing  Westchester  tribe  and  others  fled  to  Manhattan 
and  took  refuge  with  the  Hollanders.  De  Vries 
thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  establish  a  per 
manent  peace  with  the  savages;  but  Kieft,  who 
still  seemed  to  thirst  for  blood,  made  it  an  occasion 
for  treachery  and  death. 

One  dark,  cold  night,  late  in  February,  1643, 
when  the  snow  fell  fast,  and  the  wind  blew  loud 
and  shrill,  and  there  was  not  a  star  to  be  seen  in 
the  sky,  eighty  men  were  sent  by  Kieft  to  attack 
the  fugitives  at  Hoboken  and  those  at  "Colaer's 
Hook,"  who  were  slumbering  in  fancied  security. 
Forty  of  those  at  the  Hook  were  massacred,  while 
the  Hollanders,  who  had  stealthily  crossed  the 
river  through  floating  ice,  were  making  the  snows 
at  Hoboken  crimson  with  blood  of  confiding  In. 
cjians  and  lighting  up  the  heavens  with  the  blaze  of 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW   WORLD.        43 

their  wigwams.  They 
spared  neither  age  nor 
sex.  "Warrior  and 
squaw,  sachem  and 
child,  mother  and  babe," 
says  Brodhead,  "were 
alike  massacred.  Day 
break  scarcely  ended 
the  furious 


KlEFT,  FROM  THE  RAM 
PARTS,  WATCHED  THE 
BURNING  WIGWAMS. 


slaughter.      Mangled  victims,  seeking  safety  in  the 
thickets,  were  driven  into  the  river,  and  parents, 


44  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

rushing  to  save  their  children,  whom  the  soldiery 
had  thrown  into  the  stream,  were  driven  into  the 
waters  and  drowned  before  the  eyes  of  their  unre 
lenting  murderers." 

It  has  been  estimated  that  fully  one  hundred 
perished  in  this  ruthless  butchery.  Historians  state 
that  Kieft,  from  the  ramparts  at  Fort  Amsterdam, 
watched  the  burning  wigwams.  This  treachery 
and  wholesale  murder  roused  the  fiery  hatred  of 
the  savages  and  kindled  a  war  so  fierce  that  Kieft 
was  frightened  by  the  fury  of  the  tempest  which 
his  wickedness  and  folly  had  raised,  and  he  hum 
bly  asked  the  people  to  choose  a  few  men  again  to 
act  as  his  counsellors.  The  colonists,  who  had 
lost  all  confidence  in  the  governor,  chose  eight  citi 
zens  to  relieve  them  from  the  fearful  net  of  diffi 
culties  in  which  they  were  involved.  Almost  the 
first  these  eight  advisers  did  was  to  ask  the  states- 
general  at  home  to  recall  Governor  Kieft,  which 
was  promptly  done,  and  while  on  his  way  to 
Europe  with  his  ill-gotten  gains,  his  vessel  went 
down,  and  the  governor  perished. 

Peter  Stuy  vesant,  the  brave  soldier  who  had  lost 
a  leg  in  the  West  Indies,  was  sent  as  governor  to 
New  Amsterdam,  and  he  arrived  in  May,  1647. 
The  stern,  stubborn  old  soldier  was  received  with 
great  demonstrations  of  joy  by  the  Hollanders. 
Despite  all  his  stubbornness,  Stuyvesant  was  a 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        45 

man  of  keen  sagacity.  He  was  despotic,  yet  hon 
est  and  wise.  He  set  about  some  much  needed 
reforms,  refusing  to  sell  liquors  and  arms  to  the 
Indians.  He  soon  taught  the  Indians  to  respect 
and  fear  him;  but  at  the  same  time  they  learned 
to  admire  his  honesty  and  courage. 

By  prudent  and  adroit  management,  Stuyvesant 
swept  away  many  annoyances  in  the  shape  of  ter 
ritorial  claims.  When  the  Plymouth  Company  as 
signed  their  American  domain  to  twelve  persons, 
they  conveyed  to  Lord  Stirling,  the  proprietor  of 
Nova  Scotia,  a  part  of  New  England  and  an  isl 
and  adjacent  to  Long  Island.  Stirling  tried  to 
take  possession  of  Long  Island,  but  failed.  At 
his  death,  in  1647,  his  widow  sent  a  Scotchman 
to  assert  the  claim  and  act  as  governor.  He  pro 
claimed  himself  as  such,  but  was  promptly  arrested 
by  Stuyvesant  and  put  on  board  a  ship  bound  for 
Holland.  The  vessel  touched  :,t  an  English  port, 
where  the  "governor"  escaped,  and  no  further 
trouble  with  the  family  of  Lord  Stirling  ensued. 

Stuyvesant  went  to  Hartford  and  settled  by 
treaty  all  disputes  with  the  New  Englanders  which 
had  annoyed  his  predecessors.  Then  he  turned 
his  attention  to  the  suppression  of  the  expanding 
power  and  influence  of  the  Swedes  on  the  Dela 
ware.  The  accession  of  a  new  queen  to  the  throne 
of  Sweden  made  it  necessary  to  make  a  satisfactory 


46  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

adjustment  of  the  long-pending  dispute  about  the 
territory.  Stuyvesant  was  instructed  to  act  firmly 
but  discreetly.  Accompanied  by  his  suite  of  offi 
cers,  he  went  to  Fort  Nassau  on  the  New  Jersey 
side  of  the  Delaware,  whence  he  sent  Printz,  the 
governor  of  New  Sweden,  an  abstract  of  the  title 
of  the  Dutch  to  the  domain  and  called  a  council 
of  the  Indian  chiefs  in  the  neighborhood.  These 
chiefs  declared  the  Swedes  to  be  usurpers  and  by 
solemn  treaty  gave  all  the  land  to  the  Dutch. 
Then  Stuyvesant  crossed  over  and,  near  the  site  of 
New  Castle  in  Delaware,  built  a  fort,  which  he 
called  Fort  Cassimer.  Governor  Printz  protested 
in  vain.  The  two  magistrates  held  friendly  per 
sonal  intercourse,  and  they  mutually  promised  to 
"keep  neighborly  friendship  and  correspondence 
together."  This  strange  friendly  conquest  was 
in  the  year  1651.  The  following  year  an  impor 
tant  concession  was  made  to  the  inhabitants  of  New 
Amsterdam.  A  constant  war  was  waged  between 
Stuyvesant  and  the  representatives  of  the  people 
called  the  "Nine."  The  governor  tried  to  repress 
the  spirit  of  popular  freedom ;  the  Nine  fostered  it. 
They  wanted  a  municipal  government  for  their 
growing  capital  and,  fearing  the  governor,  made  a 
direct  application  to  the  states-general  for  the  priv 
ilege.  It  was  granted,  and  the  people  of  New 
Amsterdam  were  allowed  a  government  like  the 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW   WORLD.        47 

free  cities  of  Holland,  the  officers  to  be  appointed 
bj  the  governor.  Under  this  arrangement,  New 
Amsterdam  (afterward  New  York)  was,  early  in 
1653,  organized  as  a  city.  Stuyvesant  was  very 
much  annoyed  by  this  "imprudent  entrusting  of 
power  with  the  people." 

Stuyvesant  was  a  royalist,  and  for  years  he 
struggled  with  the  increasing  spirit  of  republican 
ism,  which  was  constantly  growing  among  his  peo 
ple;  but  he  was  not  troubled  by  his  domestic  af 
fairs  alone;  his  foreign  relations  were  once  more 
disturbed.  Governor  Printz  returned  to  Sweden, 
and  in  his  place  the  warlike  magistrate  John  Ris- 
ingh  came  to  the  Delaware  with  some  soldiers  un 
der  the  bold  Swen  Schute,  and  appeared  before 
Fort  Cassimer  demanding  its  surrender. 

The  Dutch  residents  fled  to  the  fort  demanding 
protection;  but  Bikker  the  commander  said: 

"I  have  no  powder.      What  can  I  do?" 

After  an  hour's  parley,  Bikker  went  out,  leav 
ing  the  gate  of  the  fort  wide  open,  and  shook  hands 
with  Schute  and  his  men,  welcoming  them  as 
friends.  The  Swedes  fired  two  shots  over  the  fort 
in  token  of  its  capture  and  then,  blotting  out  the 
Dutch  garrison,  named  it  Fort  Trinity,  as  the  sur 
render  was  on  Trinity  Sunday,  1654. 

Stuyvesant  was  enraged  and  perplexed  by  this 
surrender.  At  that  time  he  was  expecting  an  at- 


48 


A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON, 


tack  from  the  English,  and  the  doughty  governor 
prepared  to  wipe  out  the  stain  on  Belgic  prowess 
caused  "by  that  infamous  surrender."  On  the 
first  Sunday  in  September,  1655,  with  seven  ves 
sels  carrying  more  than  six  hundred  soldiers,  he 
sailed  from  New  Amsterdam  for  the  Delaware. 
lie  landed  his  force  on  the  beach  between  Fort 
Cassimer  and  Fort  Christina  near  Wilmington,  and 
an  ensign  with  a  drum  was 
sent  to  the  fort  to  demand 
the  surrender.  The  warlike 
Schute  complied  next  day, 
and  in  the  presence  of  Stuy- 
vesant  and  his  suite  he 
drank  the  health  of  the 
governor  in  a  glass  of 
Ehenish  wine.  So  ended 
the  bloodless  conquest. 

On  his  return  to  Man 
hattan,  Stuyvesant  found 
the  wildest  confusion  reigning  because  of  a  sudden 
uprising  of  the  Indians.  A  former  civil  officer 
named  Van  Dyck  had  a  very  fine  peach  orchard 
\vhich  caused  him  no  little  annoyance  on  account 
of  the  constant  pilfering  of  the  Indians.  Van 
Dyck,  had  grown  exasperated  and  had  vowed  to 
kill  the  next  Indian  whom  he  should  discover 
stealing  his  fruit.  One  day  while  the  stout  Dutch- 


STUYVESANT. 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        49 

man  was  at  his  midday  meal,  his  son  ran  in  to  tell 
him  that  he  had  seen  an  Indian  squaw  enter  the 
orchard.  Van  Dyck  sprang  from  the  table  vowing 
vengeance,  and  from  the  rack  made  of  deer's  horns 


he  took  down  his  fu 
see  and  rushed  into 
the  orchard,  taking 
care  to  conceal  him 
self  until  he  was  with 
in  easy  range.  The 
squaw  saw  him  and, 
•with  a  yell  of  fear, 
wheeled  to  fly  for  her 
life;  but  Van  Dyck  was  a  true  shot  and,  bringing 
his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  killed  her  as  she  ran. 

The  fury  of  the  tribe  was  kindled,  and  the  long 
peace  of  ten  years  was  suddenly  broken.      One 


THE  SQUAW,  WITH  A  YELL  OF 
FEAR,  WHEELED  TO  FLY  FOR 
HER  LIFE. 


50  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

morning  before  daybreak  almost  two  thousand 
river  Indians  in  sixty  large  war-canoes  landed, 
distributed  themselves  through  the  town  and,  un 
der  pretence  of  looking  for  northern  Indians,  broke 
into  several  dwellings  in  search  of  Yan  Dyck.  A 
council  of  the  inhabitants  was  immediately  held  at 
the  fort,  and  the  sachems  of  the  invaders  were  sum 
moned  before  them.  The  Indian  leaders  agreed  to 
leave  the  city  and  pass  over  to  Nutten  (now  Gov 
ernor's  Island),  before  sunset;  but  they  broke 
their  promise.  That  afternoon  Van  Dyck  was 
discovered,  and  they  opened  fire  on  him.  He  fled 
down  the  street,  but  was  finally  shot  and  killed, 
and  the  lives  of  others  were  threatened.  The  peo 
ple  flew  to  arms  and  drove  the  savages  to  their 
canoes.  The  Indians  crossed  the  Hudson  and  rav 
aged  New  Jersey  and  Staten  Island.  Within  three 
days  a  hundred  inhabitants  were  killed,  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  made  captives,  and  the  estates  of  three 
hundred  utterly  desolated  by  the  dusky  foe.  In 
the  height  of  the  excitement,  Stuyvesant  returned 
and  soon  brought  order  out  of  chaos,  yet  distant 
settlements  were  still  broken  up,  the  inhabitants 
in  fear  flying  to  Manhattan  for  safety.  To  pre 
vent  a  like  calamity  in  the  future,  the  governor 
issued  a  proclamation  ordering  all  who  lived  in 
secluded  places  in  the  country  to  gather  themselves 
into  villages  "  after  the  fashion  of  our  New  Eng- 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        51 

land  neighbors/'  After  some  desultory  fighting 
on  the  frontier,  Dutch  and  Indian  hostilities  in  a 
great  measure  ceased,  and  for  about  ten  years,  be 
yond  the  threatenings  of  the  English  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  Indians  on  the  other,  New  Nether- 
land  enjoyed  a  season  of  peace  and  prosperity. 

The  New  England  colonies,  with  the  exception 
of  Khode  Island  and  a  part  of  the  Mason  and 
Gorges  claim,  had,  in  1644,  formed  a  confederacy. 
The  New  England  Confederacy — the  harbinger  of 
the  United  States  of  America — was  simply  a  league 
of  independent  provinces,  as  were  the  thirteen 
states  under  the  "  Articles  of  Confederation, "each 
jealously  guarding  its  own  privileges  and  rights 
against  any  encroachments  of  the  general  govern 
ment.  That  central  body  was  in  reality  no  gov 
ernment  at  all.  It  was  composed  of  a  board  of 
commissioners  consisting  of  two  church  members 
from  each  colony,  who  were  to  meet  annually,  or 
oftener  if  required.  Their  duty  was  to  consider 
circumstances  and  recommend  measures  for  the  gen 
eral  good.  They  had  no  executive  or  independent 
legislative  powers,  their  recommendations  becoming 
laws  only  after  they  had  been  acted  upon  and  ap 
proved  by  the  colonies.  The  doctrine  of  state 
supremacy  was  controlling.  Though  it  was  not  a 
government,  or  at  least  only  a  government  in  em 
bryo,  yet  the  student  can  see  from  these  separate 


52  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

colonies,    jealous  of    their    rights,  the  outcoming 
of  the  United  States. 

Of  that  famous  league,  Massachusetts  assumed 
control  because  of  her  greater  population  and  her 
superiority  as  a  "  perfect  republic. "  It  remained  in 
force  more  than  forty  years,  during  which  period  the 
government  of  England  was  changed  three  times. 
When  trouble  arose  between  King  Charles  I.  and 
Parliament,  the  New  Englanders,  being  Puritans, 
were  in  sympathy  with  the  roundheads.  In  1649 
King  Charles  lost  his  throne  and  life,  and  England 
for  a  brief  time  became  a  commonwealth.  Unlike 
the  Virginians,  the  New  Englanders  sympathized 
with  the  English  republicans,  and  found  in  Oliver 
Cromwell,  the  ruler  of  England  next  to  the  be 
headed  Charles  I.,  a  sincere  friend  and  protector. 
The  growth  of  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  was 
particularly  healthy.  A  profitable  commerce  be 
tween  the  colony  and  the  West  Indies,  now  that 
the  obnoxious  navigation  laws  were  a  dead  letter, 
was  created.  That  trade  brought  bullion,  or  un 
coined  gold  and  silver,  into  the  colony,  which  led, 
in  1652,  to  the  exercise  of  an  act  of  sovereignty 
on  the  part  of  the  authorities  of  Massachusetts  by 
the  establishment  of  a  mint.  It  was  authorized  by 
the  general  assembly,  in  1651,  and  the  following 
year  "silver  coins  of  the  denomination  of  three 
pence,  sixpence  and  twelvepence,  or  shilling, 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD. 


53 


were  struck.  This  was  the  first  coinage  within 
the  territory  of  the  United  States." 

There  lived  in  Boston  at  this  time  a  family 
named  Stevens.  The  head  of  the  family  was  a 
white-haired  old  man  named  Mathew,  whose  dark 
eyes  and  complexion  indicated  southern  blood. 
He  was  a  foster-son  of  the  Pilgrim  Father,  Mr. 
Kobinson,  and  had  come  to  New  England  in  the 
Mayflower  when  she  made  her  first  memorable 
voyage  to  Plymouth,  thirty-two  years  before. 

Mathew  Stevens  had  removed  with  his  family 
from  New  Plymouth  to  Boston  the  year  before  the 
king  of  England  lost  his  head.  This  man  was  a 
brother  to  the  father  of  John  Stevens  of  Virginia, 
and  though  he  had  Spanish  blood  in  his  veins,  he 
was  a  Puritan.  The  Puritan  of  Massachusetts 
was,  at  this  time,  the  straitest  of  his  sect,  an  un 
flinching  egotist,  who  regarded  himself  as  emi 
nently  his  "brother's  keeper,"  whose  constant 
business  it  was  to  save  his  fellow-men  from  sin  and 
error,  sitting  in  judgment  upon  their  belief  and 
actions  with  the  authority  of  a  divinely  appointed 
high  priest.  His  laws,  found  on  the  statute  books 
of  the  colony,  or  divulged  in  the  records  of  court 
proceedings,  exhibit  the  salient  points  in  his  stern 
and  inflexible  character,  as  a  self -constituted  cen 
sor  and  a  conservator  of  the  moral  and  spiritual 
destiny  of  his  fellow-mortals.  A  line  was  imposed 


54  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

on  every  woman  wearing  her  hair  cut  short  like 
a  man's;  all  gaming  for  amusement  or  gain  was 
forbidden,  and  cards  and  dice  were  not  permitted 
in  the  colony.  A  father  was  fined  if  his  daughter 
did  not  spin  as  much  flax  or  wool  as  the  selectmen 
required  of  her.  No  Jesuit  or  Eoman  Catholic 
priest  was  permitted  to  make  his  residence  within 
the  colony.  All  persons  were  forbidden  to  run 
or  even  walk,  "except  to  and  from  church"  on 
Sunday,  and  a  burglar,  because  he  committed  his 
crime  on  that  sacred  day,  was  to  have  one  of  his 
ears  cut  off.  John  Wedgewood  was  placed  in  the 
stocks  for  being  in  the  company  of  drunkards. 
Thomas  Petit,  for  "suspicion  of  slander,  idleness 
and  stubbornness,"  was  severely  whipped.  Captain 
Lowell,  a  dashing  ladies'  man,  more  of  a  cavalier 
and  modern  society  fop  than  a  sober  Puritan,  was 
admonished  to  "take  heed  of  his  light  carriage." 
The  records  show  that  Josias  Plaistowe,  for  stealing 
four  baskets  of  corn  from  the  Indians,  was  ordered 
to  return  to  them  eight  baskets,  to  be  fined  five 
pounds,  and  thereafter  to  "be  called  by  the  name 
of  Josias,  and  not  Mr.  Plaistowe,  as  formerly." 
The  grand  jurors  were  directed  to  admonish  those 
who  wore  apparel  too  costly  for  their  income,  and, 
if  they  did  not  heed  the  warning,  to  fine  them,  and 
in  the  year  1646  there  was  enacted  a  law  in  Mas 
sachusetts  which  imposed  a  penalty  of  flogging  for 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        55 

kissing  a  woman  on  the  street,  even  in  the  way  of 
honest  salute.  This  law  remained  in  force  for  a 
hundred  years,  though  it  was  practically  ignored. 

In  this  school  of  rigid  Puritanism  lived  the 
northern  family  of  Stevens,  of  the  same  Spanish 
branch  as  the  Virginia  family.  The  head  of  the 
family,  having  been  trained  by  such  devout  men 
as  John  Robinson  and  William  Brewster,  of  course 
grew  up  in  the  law  and  customs  of  the  Puritans. 
Puritanism  to-day  has  a  semblance  of  fanaticism; 
but  in  the  age  of  pioneers,  when  civilization  was 
in  its  infancy,  the  frontierman  naturally  went  to 
some  extreme.  Extreme  Puritanism  is  better  than 
the  reign  of  lawlessness  which  characterized  many 
frontier  settlements  in  later  years.  It  is  sometimes 
difficult  to  distinguish  between  fanaticism  and  the 
keenest  sagacity,  and  the  folly  of  one  age  may  be 
come  the  wisdom  of  a  succeeding  century.  Fanatic 
as  the  Puritan  may  be  called,  he  was  the  sage  of 
New  England  and  gave  to  that  land  an  impetus  in 
the  arts,  literature,  and  science,  which  has  enabled 
that  country  to  eclipse  any  other  part  of  the  New 
World. 

While  New  England  was  steadily  progress 
ing,  despite  changes  in  the  home  government, 
Maryland  was  without  any  historical  event  worth 
mentioning,  save  the  trouble  with  Clay  bourne. 

That  portion  of  the  United  States  known  as  New 


56  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Jersey  and  Delaware  consisted  at  this  time  of  only 
a  few  trading  settlements  hardly  worthy  of  being 
called  colonies.  Except  for  the  Swedish  and  Dutch 
troubles  and  the  Indian  wars  mentioned,  these 
countries  were  in  the  last  decade  wholly  without 
historical  interest.  After  all,  territory  is  but  the 
body  of  a  nation.  The  people  who  inhabit  its  hills 
and  valleys  are  its  soul,  its  spirit  and  its  life. 

All  south  of  Virginia  was  a  wilderness  occupied 
by  tribes  of  Indians  until  the  Spanish  settlements 
were  reached.  That  portion  now  known  as  Caro- 
linia  and  Georgia  was  claimed  by  Spain.  In  1 630, 
a  patent  for  all  this  territory  was  issued  to  Sir  Rob 
ert  Heath,  and  there  is  room  to  believe  that,  in 
1639,  permanent  plantations  were  planned  and  con 
templated  by  his  assign  William  Howley,  who  ap 
peared  in  Virginia  as  "  Governor  of  Carolinia. "  The 
Virginia  legislature  granted  that  it  might  be  colo 
nized  by  one  hundred  persons  from  Virginia,  "free 
men,  being  single  and  disengaged  of  debt. "  The  at 
tempts  were  unsuccessful, for  the  patent  was  declared 
void,  because  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  granted 
had  never  been  fulfilled.  Besides,  more  stubborn 
rivals  were  fouiid  to  have  already  planted  them 
selves  on  the  Cape  Fear  River.  Hardly  had  New 
England  received  within  her  bosom  a  few  scanty 
colonies,  before  her  citizens  began  roaming  the  con 
tinent  and  traversing  the  seas  in  quest  of  untried 


THE  COLONIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD.        57 

fortune.  A  little  bark,  navigated  by  New  England 
men,  had  hovered  off  the  coast  of  Carolinia.  They 
had  carefully  matched  the  dangers  of  its  naviga 
tion,  had  found  their  way  into  the  Cape  Fear  Biver, 
had  purchased  of  the  Indian  chiefs  a  title  to  the 
soil,  and  had  boldly  planted  a  little  colony  of  herds 
men  far  to  the  south  of  any  English  settlement  on 
the  continent.  Already  they  had  partners  in  Lon 
don,  and  hardly  was  the  grant  of  Carolinia  made 
known  before  their  agents  pleaded  their  discovery, 
occupancy  and  purchase,  as  affording  a  valid  title 
to  the  soil,  while  the}*  claimed  the  privilege  of  self- 
government  as  a  natural  right.  A  compromise  was 
offered,  and  the  proprietaries,  in  their  "proposal  to 
all  that  would  plant  in  Carolinia,"  promised  emi 
grants  from  New  England  a  governor  and  council 
to  be  elected  from  among  a  number  whom  the  emi 
grants  themselves  should  nominate;  a  representa 
tive  assembly,  independent  legislation,  subject  only 
to  the  negative  of  the  proprietaries,  land  at  a  rent 
of  half  a  penny  per  acre  and  such  freedom,  from 
customs  as  the  charter  would  warrant. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  offers,  but  few  availed 
themselves  of  them,  and  the  lands  were  for  most  part 
abandoned  to  wild  beasts  and  natives.  From  Nan- 
semond,  Virginia,  a  party  of  explorers  was  formed 
to  traverse  the  forests  and  rivers  that  flow  into  the 
Albemarle  Sound.  The  company  which  started 


58  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

in  July,  1653,  was  led  by  Eoger  Green,  whose  ser 
vices  were  rewarded  by  a  grant  of  a  thousand  acres, 
while  ten  thousand  acres  were  offered  to  any  col 
ony  of  one  hundred  persons  who  would  plant  on 
the  banks  of  the  Roanoke,  or  the  south  side  of  the 
Chowan  and  its  tributary  streams.  These  condi 
tional  grants  seem  not  to  have  taken  effect,  yet  the 
enterprise  of  Virginia  did  not  flag,  and  Thomas 
Dew,  once  the  speaker  of  the  assembly,  formed  a 
plan  for  exploring  the  navigable  rivers  still  further 
to  the  south,  between  Cape  Hatteras  and  Cape  Fear. 
How  far  this  spirit  of  discovery  led  to  immediate 
emigration,  it  is  not  possible  to  determine.  The 
country  of  Nansemond  had  long  abounded  in  non 
conformists,  and  the  settlements  on  Albemarle 
Sound  were  the  result  of  spontaneous  overflowings 
from  Virginia.  A  few  vagrant  families  were  planted 
within  the  limits  of  Carolinia;  but  it  is  quite  cer 
tain  that  no  colony  existed  until  after  the  restoration. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    STORM    AXD    SHIPWRECK. 

The  wind 
Increased  at  night,  until  it  blew  a  gale ; 

And  though  'twas  not  much  to  naval  mind, 
Some  landsmen  would  have  looked  a  little  pale, 

For  sailors  are,  in  fact,  a  different  kind  : 
At  sunset  they  began  to  take  in  sail. 

— BYRON. 

NEARLY  two  centuries  and  a  half  have  made  won 
derful  cl  anges  in  ocean  travel.  The  floating  pal 
aces  of  to-day  which  plough  the  deep  on  schedule 
time,  regardless  of  storms,  contrary  winds  and  ad 
verse  tides,  were  unknown  when  John  Stevens  em 
barked  for  England  in  105-i. 

The  vessel  in  which  he  sailed  was  one  of  the 
best  of  the  time.  It  was  large,  well  manned  and 
officered,  and  few  had  any  fears  of  risking  a  voy 
age  in  the  stanch  craft  Silverwing ;  but  John 
Stevens  could  no  more  allay  his  fears  than  control 
the  storm. 

His  wife,  who  stood  weeping  on  the  strand,  be 
came  a  speck  in  the  distance  and  then  disappeared 


60  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

from  his  view.  The  heart  of  the  husband  over 
flowed  with  bitterness,  and  he  turned  from  the  tafl- 
rail  where  he  had  been  standing  and  walked  for 
ward  to  conceal  his  emotion. 

All  about  him  were  gay  groups  of  people,  laugh 
ing  and  jesting.  They  were  mostly  men  and  women 
who  had  come  from  England  and  were  happy  now 
that  they  were  going  home.  John's  wife  seemed 
to  have  lost  her  many  faults,  and  the  image  that 
faded  from  his  gaze  was  a  creature  of  perfection. 
Only  the  beautiful  face,  the  great  dark  eyes  and  the 
sunny  smiles  were  remembered. 

John  went  to  his  stateroom  and,  falling  into  his 
berth,  wept.  He  may  be  called  weak,  but  he  was 
not.  John  had  braved  too  many  dangers  and  un 
dergone  too  many  hardships  to  be  termed  weak. 
His  mind  was  filled  with  his  wife  and  children. 
The  face  of  his  sleeping  baby,  whose  warm,  ten 
der  arms  had  been  so  often  entwined  about  his  neck, 
lingered  in  his  mind.  When  the  dinner  hour  came 
he  was  not  hungry,  so  he  remained  in  his  cabin. 

The  vessel  had  gained  the  open  sea  by  nightfall 
and  was  bowling  along  at  a  three-knot  rate  under 
full  spread  of  canvas  and  fair  wind.  He  went  to 
supper,  though  little  inclined  to  eat,  and  during 
the  night  was  awakened  with  a  load  heavier  than 
grindstones  on  his  stomach. 

"Surely  I  will  die,"  he  groaned,  as  each  heaving 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  61 

billow  seemed  to  torture  his  poor  stomach.  He 
rose  at  dawn  and  found  himself  unable  to  stand. 
The  sea  was  rough,  and  the  ship  was  tossing  and 
reeling  like  a  drunken  man.  John  found  himself 
unable  to  lie  down  or  sit  up.  He  spent  the  day 
in  rolling  alternately  in  his  berth  or  on  the  floor, 
groaning,  "Surely  I  will  die." 

The  purser  came  and  laughed  at  his  distress,  as 
suring  him  that  he  would  survive.  Next  day  he 
felt  better  and  crawled  out  upon  the  deck.  The 
sea  still  ran  high,  though  the  sky  was  clear,  and 
the  sun  shone  on  the  wildly  agitated  sea. 

He  saw  a  wretch  as  miserable  as  himself  crouch 
ing  under  a  hencoop  and  holding  both  hands  upon 
his  tortured  stomach.  John  Stevens  paused  for  a 
moment  at  the  rail,  gasping  with  seasickness. 

"Say,  neighbor,  are  you  having  a  hard  time?" 
asked  the  seasick  but  cheerful  individual  under  the 
hencoop. 

"My  head  hurts,"  John  gasped. 

"Verily,  I  ache  all  over,"  returned  the  new  ac 
quaintance  under  the  hencoop. 

At  this  moment  the  cabin  door  was  thrown  sud 
denly  and  unceremoniously  open,  and  a  man  past 
middle  age  darted  forward  as  if  he  had  been  shot 
out  of  a  cannon  and  went  sprawling  upon  the  deck, 
howling  as  he  did  so: 

"Good  morrow,  stranger!" 


62  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

John  was  not  astonished  at  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  the  man,  but  was  rather  alarmed  at  the  vio 
lence  of  his  fall.  He  ran  to  him  and  assisted  him 
to  rise. 

"Are  you  injured?"  he  asked. 

"Nay,  nay;  the  fall  was  not  violent." 

The  man  under  the  hencoop,  who  had  been  a 
disinterested  spectator,  took  occasion  to  remark: 

"Marry!  my  friend,  I  wish  it  were  I  who  had 
taken  such  a  tumble;  surely  it  would  have  crushed 
the  stones  in  my  stomach." 

"I  am  not  sick,"  the  new-comer  answered,  rising 
to  his  feet.  "  I  was  thrown  by  the  sudden  lurch 
of  the  ship;  but  it  will  soon  be  over." 

"I  trust  so,"  groaned  the  seasick  man  by  the 
hencoop. 

"But  the  sea  runs  high,"  the  old  man  said,  "let 
us  go  in." 

John  Stevens,  who  had  partially  recovered  from 
his  seasickness,  went  into  the  cabin  with  the  stran 
ger.  He  had  formed  no  acquaintances  since  com 
ing  on  board  the  vessel  and  was  strangely  impressed 
with  this  old  gentleman.  Men  cannot  always  brood 
on  the  past  and  retain  their  senses.  John  Stevens 
was  not  a  coward,  yet  the  helpless  condition  of  his 
wife  and  children  made  him  dread  danger.  When 
they  were  seated  he  said: 

"You  do  not  belong  at  Jamestown." 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  63 

"No.  I  am  from  London  and  know  no  one  at 
Jamestown." 

"You  came  in  the  last  ship?" 

"We  did." 

"You  did  not  come  alone?" 

"No;  my  daughter  Blanche  came  with  me. 
She  is  all  the  child  I  have." 

John  Stevens  remembered  to  have  seen  a  very 
pretty  girl  on  the  streets  of  Jamestown,  and  for 
having  praised  her  beauty,  his  wife  had  grown  in 
sanely  jealous  and  given  way  to  one  of  her  out 
bursts  of  anger.  The  gentleman  from  London  was 
Mr.  Samuel  Holmes,  who  had  been  a  too  warm 
friend  of  Charles  I.  to  suit  the  Protectorate,  and 
after  Cromwellism  had  become  a  certainty,  he  con 
sidered  it  better  to  fly  the  country.  As  Virginia 
had  been  friendly  to  cavaliers,  he  had  brought  his 
daughter  to  Jamestown  and  spent  six  months  there; 
but,  being  assured  by  friends  that  he  could  return 
with  safety,  he  had  decided  to  go  home. 

From  that  time  John  Stevens  and  Mr.  Holmes 
became  friends.  In  a  day  or  two  more  the  passen 
gers  had  nearly  all  recovered  from  their  seasick 
ness,  and  the  voyage  promised  to  be  a  favorable 
one.  John  Stevens  met  Blanche  Holmes,  a  pretty 
blue-eyed  English  girl,  with  light  brown  hair  and 
ruddy  cheeks.  She  was  not  over  eighteen  years 
of  age,  and  was  one  of  those  trusting,  confiding 


64  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

creatures,  who  win  friends  at  first  sight.  By  the 
strange,  fortuitous  circumstances  which  fate  seems 
to  indiscriminately  weave  about  people,  the  maid 
and  John  Stevens  were  thrown  much  into  each 
other's  society. 

She  had  many  questions  to  ask  about  the  New 
World.  He,  having  passed  all  his  life  there  and 
having  explored  the  coast  to  Massachusetts  and 
fought  many  battles  with  the  Indians,  wras  able  to 
entertain  her,  and  she  never  seemed  to  tire  of  lis 
tening  to  his  adventures.  It  never  occurred  to  John 
that  there  could  be  any  impropriety  in  talking  to 
this  child,  nor  was  there  any,  though  modern  so 
ciety  might  condemn  him.  He  never  mentioned 
his  family  to  either  Blanche  or  her  father. 

That  wife  and  children  left  at  Jamestown  were 
subjects  too  sacred  for  general  conversation. 
When  alone  in  his  stateroom  he  knelt  and  breathed 
a  prayer  for  them,  and  often  in  his  dreams  he  heard 
his  laughing  boy  at  play,  or  felt  the  warm,  soft 
hand  of  his  baby  on  his  cheek,  or  heard  her  sweet 
voice  calling  him.  Often  he  awoke  and  sobbed 
like  a  child  on  discovering  that  the  ship  was 
hourly  bearing  him  further  and  further  from 
home. 

Mr.  Holmes  was  a  cheerful  companion  at  first, 
but  gradually  he  grew  melancholy,  and  at  times 
inapproachable.  One  day  John  met  him  at  the 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  65 

gangway,  and  he  took  the  young  man's  arm  and, 
leading  him  aft,  said: 

"I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

They  sat  upon  some  coils  of  rope,  and  Mr. 
Holmes  resumed:  "We  are  going  to  have  bad 
weather.  I  am  something  of  a  sailor,  and,  in  ad 
dition  to  my  own  experience,  the  captain  says  we 
will  have  a  storm  ere  many  hours." 

There  was  something  in  the  voice  and  manner  of 
the  man  which  chilled  Stevens;  but  he  retained 
his  self-possession  and  answered: 

"Of  course  you  feel  no  serious  apprehension? 
The  ship  is  strong  and  able  to  weather  any  storm." 

"I  believe  it  is;  yet  in  a  storm  at  sea  we  have 
no  assurance  of  safety.  Our  captain  is  incompetent 
and  the  vessel  has,  through  a  miscalculation,  gone 
a  long  distance  out  of  her  true  course.  Now  what 
I  wish  to  say  is  this:  should  anything  happen  to 
me  on  this  voyage,  I  want  you  to  care  for  my 
daughter.  You  have  seen  and  talked  with  her 
every  day  since  first  we  met,  and  }*ou  know  how 
good  she  is.  I  am  her  onl}T  relative  on  earth,  and 
Cromwell  has  set  a  price  on  my  head.  Should  I 
perish,  she  will  be  without  a  protector." 

John  Stevens  was  astonished  at  the  strange  re 
quest,  but  consented  to  accept  the  charge,  provided 
he  should  be  spared  and  Mr.  Holmes  should  perish. 

Mr.  Holmes  was  not  mistaken  in  his  surmises 
5 


66  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

about  the  weather.  The  day  of  this  interview  was 
the  nineteenth  of  September,  and  before  night  the 
sky  was  obscured  by  great  fleecy  clouds,  and  in  the 
evening  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  The  firmament 
darkened  apace;  sudden  night  came  on,  and  the 
horrors  of  extreme  darkness  were  rendered  still 
more  horrible  by  the  peals  of  thunder  which  made 
the  sphere  tremble,  and  the  frequent  flashes  of 
lightning,  which  served  only  to  show  the  horror  of 
the  situation,  and  then  leave  them  in  darkness  still 
more  intense.  The  wind  grew  more  violent,  and 
a  heavy  sea,  raised  by  its  force,  united  to  add  to 
the  dangers  of  the  situation. 

"It  is  coming,"  Mr.  Holmes  whispered  to  John, 
whom  he  met  in  the  gangway. 

"We  are  going  to  have  a  terrible  storm,"  John 
answered. 

"Yes;  remember  your  promise. " 

"I  will  not  forget  it,  Mr.  Holmes;  but  why  do 
you  refer  to  it  ?  Surely  you  are  as  likely  as  I  to 
outlive  the  tempest." 

"No,  no,"  Mr.  Holmes  answered,  shaking  his 
white  head  despairingly,  "I  have  an  impression 
that  my  time  has  surely  come." 

John  Stevens  was  startled  by  the  remark,  for  he 
too  was  living  in  the  shadow  of  some  expected 
calamity.  He  next  met  the  passenger  whom  he  had 
seen  under  the  lee  of  the  hencoop,  and  his  despair 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  67 

and  grimaces  were  enough  to  make  even  the  dis 
couraged  John  smile. 

"Oh,  I  shall  be  drowned.  I  shall  be  drowned!" 
the  poor  fellow  was  groaning.  "Pray  for  me, 
some  of  you  who  can.  I  cannot,  for  it  would  do 
no  good ;  but  some  of  you  can  surely  pray.  By 
the  mass!  I  see  the  very  whale  that  swallowed 
Jonah  ready  to  gulp  me  down." 

He  was  clinging  to  some  ropes  as  if  he  expected 
momentarily  to  be  swept  away. 

John  Stevens  went  to  bed,  which  was  the  most 
sensible  thing  he  could  do.  By  daylight  on  the 
morning  of  the  twentieth,  the  gale  had  increased 
to  a  furious  tempest,  and  the  sea,  keeping  pace 
with  it,  ran  mountains  high.  All  that  day  the  pas 
sengers  wrere  kept  close  below  hatches,  for  the  sea 
beat  over  the  ship. 

About  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-first,  John  Stevens  was  alarmed  by  an  un 
usual  noise  upon  deck,  and  running  up,  perceived 
that  every  sail  in  the  vessel,  except  the  foresail, 
had  been  totally  carried  away.  The  sight  was  hor 
rible,  and  the  whole  vessel  presented  a  spectacle  of 
despair,  which  the  stoutest  heart  could  not  with 
stand.  Fear  had  produced  not  only  all  the  help 
lessness  of  despondency,  but  all  the  mischievous 
freaks  of  insanity.  In  one  place  stood  the  captain, 
raving,  stamping  and  tearing  his  hair  in  handfuls 


63  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

from  his  head.  Here  some  of  the  crew  were  upon 
their  knees,  clasping  their  hands  and  praying,  with 
all  the  extravagance  of  horror  depicted  in  their 
faces.  Others  were  flogging  their  images  with 
might  and  main,  calling  upon  them  to  allay  the 
storm.  One  of  the  passengers  from  England  had 
got  hold  of  a  bottle  of  rum  and,  with  an  air  of  dis 
traction  and  deep  despair  imprinted  on  his  face, 
was  stalking  about  in  his  shirt,  crying: 

"Come,  drink  to  oblivion,  death  we  must  meet; 
let  us  make  the  dissolution  easy."  Perceiving  that 
it  was  his  intent  to  serve  it  out  to  the  few  undis 
mayed  members  of  the  ship's  crew,  John  rushed 
on  him,  seized  the  liquor  and  hurled  it  over  into 
the  raging  sea. 

Having  accomplished  this,  Stevens  next  applied 
himself  to  the  captain,  endeavoring  to  bring  him 
back  to  his  senses,  and  a  realization  of  the  duty 
which  he  owed  as  commander  to  the  passengers 
and  crew.  He  appealed  to  his  dignity  as  a  man, 
exhorted  him  to  encourage  the  sailors  by  his  exam 
ple,  and  strove  to  raise  his  spirits  by  saying  that 
the  storm  did  not  appear  so  terrible  as  some  he  had 
before  experienced.  While  he  was  thus  employed, 
they  shipped  a  sea  on  the  starboard  side,  which  all 
thought  would  send  them  to  the  bottom.  For  a 
moment  the  vessel  seemed  to  sink  beneath  its 
weight,  shivered  and  remained  motionless.  It  was 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  69 

a  moment  of  critical  suspense,  and,  fancying  that 
the}'  were  gradually  descending  into  the  great 
bosom  of  the  ocean,  John  Stevens  gave  himself  up 
for  lost  and  summoned  all  his  fortitude  to  bear  the 
approaching  death  as  became  a  brave  man. 

At  this  crisis,  the  water,  which  rushed  with  in 
credible  force  through  all  parts  of  the  vessel,  floated 
out.  Mr.  Holmes  was  almost  drowned,  and,  had 
not  John  seized  one  arm  which  he  swung  wildly 
above  his  head,  he  probably  would  have  been 
washed  overboard.  The  vessel  did  not  go  down 
immediately  as  they  thought  it  would,  and  Mr. 
Holmes,  partially  recovered,  joined  Stevens. 

"  The  storm  is  terrible,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The 
ship  is  going  down,  and  I  will  go  with  it." 

"  Nay,  nay ;  keep  up  a  stout  heart,"  urged  John. 

"Verily,  how  can  I,  when  danger  overwhelms 
even  the  captain?" 

"If  we  must  die,  let  us  die  like  men,  struggling 
for  our  lives,"  said  John. 

"  Eemember  your  pledge  to  me.  Care  for  her, 
for  I  will  go.  The  ship  may  be  saved,  but  my 
end  I  feel  is  near." 

John  promised  to  obey  his  request,  and  then,  be 
ing  one  whom  hope  never  entirely  deserted,  he 
turned  upon  the  captain  of  the  ship  and  once  more 
urged  him  to  make  some  manly  exertion  to  save 
himself  and  the  crew. 


70  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Throw  the  guns  overboard  as  well  as  much  of 
the  weighty  cargo,"  he  cried,  "and  set  the  pumps 
a-going. 

Mr.  Holmes,  having  sufficiently  recovered  to 
realize  the  wisdom  of  the  course  pursued  by  Ste 
vens,  joined  him  in  his  entreaties,  and  they  got  the 
captain  and  some  of  his  crew  to  make  one  more 
effort.  The  water,  however,  gained  on  the  pumps, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  not  long  be  able  to 
keep  the  vessel  afloat. 

At  ten  o'clock,  the  wind  had  increased  to  a  hur 
ricane;  the  sky  was  so  entirely  obscured  with  black 
clouds,  and  the  rain  poured  in  such  torrents,  that 
objects  could  not  be  discerned  from  the  wheel  to 
the  ship's  head.  Soon  the  pumps  were  choked 
and  could  be  no  longer  worked.  Then  dismay 
seized  on  all,  and  nothing  but  unutterable  despair, 
anguish  and  horror,  wrought  up  to  frenzy,  were  to 
be  seen.  Not  a  single  person  was  capable  of  an 
effort  to  be  useful;  all  seemed  more  desirous  to 
terminate  their  calamities  in  an  embrace  of  death, 
than  willing,  by  a  painful  exertion,  to  avoid  it. 

John  Stevens,  though  despairing,  yet  determined 
to  make  a  manly  struggle  for  life,  and  he  was  stag 
gering  through  the  main  cabin,  when  some  one 
clutched  his  arm.  He  turned  about  and  through 
the  gloom  saw  Blanche's  pale  face. 

"Are  we  going  down?"  she  asked. 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  71 

"God  grant  that  it  be  not  so!"  lie  answered. 

"But  such  fearful  noises,  such  hideous  sights." 

"Be  brave,  young  maid,"  he  urged.  "Where 
is  your  father?" 

"His  shoulder  is  injured,  and  his  left  arm  is  al 
most  useless." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Holmes  came  along,  holding 
his  injured  arm  with  his  right  hand. 

"Aye,  my  friend,  the  worst  is  coming,"  he  said, 
fixing  his  despairing  eyes  on  the  white  face  of  his 
daughter.  "I  am  pleased  to  find  you  together, 
for  now  I  can  say  what  I  would  to  both  of  you. 
Blanche,  he  hath  promised  to  care  for  you ;  he  is 
a  man  of  honor,  rely  on  him." 

A  sudden  lurch  of  the  vessel  sent  all  three  in  a 
heap  at  one  side  of  the  cabin,  and,  as  soon  as  John 
could  regain  his  feet  and  ascertain  that  the  old  gen 
tleman  and  his  daughter  had  sustained  no  injury, 
he  went  on  deck.  At  about  eleven  o'clock,  they 
could  plainly  distinguish  a  dreadful  roaring  noise 
resembling  that' of  waves  rolling  against  the  rocks; 
but  the  darkness  of  the  day  and  the  accompanying 
rain  made  it  impossible  to  see  for  any  distance, 
and  John  realized  that,  if  they  were  near  rocks,- 
they  might  bedashed  to  pieces  on  them  before  they 
were  perceived.  At  twelve  o'clock,  however,  the 
weather  cleared  a  little,  when  they  discovered  break 
ers  and  reefs  outside,  so  that  it  was  evident  they 


72  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

had  passed  in  quite  close  to  them,  and  were  now 
fairly  hemmed  in  between  the  rocks  and  the  land. 

At  this  very  critical  moment,  the  captain  adopted 
the  dangerous  expedient  of  dropping  anchor,  to 
bring  the  ship  up  with  her  head  to  the  sea.  Any 
seaman  of  common  sense  and  not  frightened  out  of 
his  wits  must  have  known  that  no  ship  could  ride 
at  anchor  in  that  storm.  John  Stevens,  though 
no  sailor,  saw  the  folly  of  such  a  course  and  ex 
postulated  with  the  captain,  but  to  no  purpose. 
Scarcely  had  the  anchor  taken  firm  hold  when  an 
enormous  sea,  rolling  over  the  ship,  overwhelmed 
her  and  filled  her  with  water,  and  every  one  on 
board  concluded  that  she  was  sinking.  On  the 
instant  a  sailor,  with  presence  of  mind  worthy  of 
an  English  mariner,  took  an  axe,  ran  forward  arid 
cut  the  cable. 

The  freed  vessel  again  floated  and  made  an  effort 
to  right  herself,  but  she  was  almost  completely 
waterlogged  and  heeled  to  larboard  so  much  that 
the  gunwale  lay  under  water.  They  then  endeav 
ored  to  steer  as  fast  as  they  could  for  land,  which 
they  knew  could  not  be  at  any  great  distance, 
though  through  the  hazy  weather  they  were  unable 
to  see  it.  The  foresail  was  loosened,  and,  by  great 
efforts  in  bailing,  she  righted  a  little,  her  gunwale 
was  raised  above  water,  and  they  scudded  as  well 
as  they  could  before  the  wind,  which  blew  hard  on 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  73 

shore,  and  at  about  two  o'clock  one  of  the  sailors 
said  he  espied  land  ahead. 

"  We  will  never  reach  it,"  said  Air.  Holmes,  who 
was  at  the  side  of  John  Stevens. 

"Do  not  despair,"  said  John. 

"But  we  can't  reach  the  shore,  look  at  those 
waves." 

A  tremendous  sea  rolling  after  them  broke  over 
the  stern  of  the  ship,  tore  everything  before  it, 
stove  in  the  steerage,  carried  away  the  rudder,  shiv 
ered  the  wheel  to  pieces  and  tore  up  the  very  ring 
bolts  of  the  deck,  carrying  the  men  who  stood  on 
the  deck  forward  and  sweeping  them  overboard. 
Among  them  was  the  unfortunate  captain  of  the 
Silverwing.  John  was  standing  at  the  time  near 
the  wheel,  and  fortunately  had  hold  of  the  taffrail, 
which  enabled  him  to  resist  in  part  the  weight  of 
the  wave.  He  was,  however,  swept  off  his  feet, 
and  dashed  against  the  main-mast.  So  violent  was 
the  jerk  from  the  taffrail,  that  it  seemed  as  if  it 
would  have  dislocated  his  arms.  However,  it 
broke  the  force  of  the  stroke,  and,  in  all  probabil 
ity,  saved  him  from  being  dashed  to  death  against 
the  mast. 

John  floundered  about  in  the  water  at  the  foot 
of  the  mast,  until  at  length  he  got  upon  his  feet  and 
seized  a  rope,  which  he  held  while  considering 
what  he  should  do  to  extricate  himself.  At  this 


74  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

instant  he  perceived  Mr.  Holmes  and  his  daughter 
on  the  capstan.  How  they  had  got  there  was  a 
marvel  to  him  which  he  had  no  time  to  investigate. 
Mr.  Holmes  beckoned  with  his  lame  hand  to  John, 
while  he  clung  to  his  daughter  with  his  right.  A 
vivid  flash  of  lightning  lighted  up  the  scene,  and 
John  saw  that  Blanche  was  very  pale,  but  calm. 
Never  had  he  seen  a  more  beautiful  picture  than 
this  pretty  maiden  with  her  face  turned  in  resig 
nation  to  the  storm.  He  forgot  his  own  danger, 
forgot  wife  and  children  at  home  in  his-  unselfish 
eagerness  to  snatch  the  unfortunate  girl  from  the 
impending  danger. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  for  John  Stevens  to  break 
away  from  his  hold  on  the  main-mast  and  make  his 
way  to  the  capstan.  At  every  roll  of  the  ship  and 
every  surge  of  the  waves,  unfortunate  passengers 
or  sailors  were  washed  overboard  and  plunged  into 
the  boiling,  seething  waves  which  thundered  about 
them.  Stevens  made  a  bold  push,  however,  and 
reached  the  capstan.  Here  he  could  survey  the 
wreck,  and  he  saw  that  the  water  was  nearly  breast- 
high  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  vessel. 

"It  will  soon  be  over,"  said  Mr.  Holmes  in  a 
voice  so  despairing  that  it  rang  in  the  ears  of  John 
Stevens  to  his  dying  day.  "Crew  and  passengers 
are  nearly  all  gone,  and  my  turn  will  come  soon." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  purser,  tvyo  men  and  four 


THE  STORM  AND  SHIPWRECK.  75 

women  were  washed  overboard,  their  drowning 
screams  mingling  with  the  hollow  roars  of  the 
ocean. 

"Take  her!  take  her!"  cried  Mr.  Holmes  fran 
tically.  "I  resign  her  to  you.  I  am  going;  lean 
hold  out  no  longer." 

A  wave  more  terrible  than  any  that  had  preceded 
it  at  this  moment  seemed  to  bury  the  ship,  which 
was  driving  straight  toward  the  unknown  shore. 
Instinctively  John  wound  one  arm  about  the  girl 
and  held  to  the  capstan  with  the  other.  It  seemed 
an  age,  and  he  was  almost  on  the  point  of  relaxing 
his  hold  on  the  capstan,  when  they  once  more  rose 
above  the  water,  and  he  got  a  breath  of  air.  He 
still  clung  to  Blanche  in  despair,  though  she  lav 
so  limp  in  his  arms  that  he  thought  her  dead. 

It  was  now  dark,  for  night  had  fallen  upon  the 
awful  scene.  A  flash  of  lightning  illuminated  the 
wreck,  Mr.  Holmes  was  gone,  and  Stevens  could 
not  see  another  soul  on  the  vessel.  The  wild 
roar  of  surf  fell  on  his  ears,  and  a  moment  later  he 
felt  the  bottom  of  the  ship  grating  on  the  sands. 
It  seemed  to  glide  further  and  further  on  the  beach, 
as  if  the  ship  were  being  lifted  and  driven  inland. 
The  tide  was  at  the  full,  and  the  wind  was  blowing 
a  hurricane  on  shore,  so  that  the  wreck  was  driven 
far  up  on  the  beach,  and  at  low  tide  it  was  high 
and  dry. 


76  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

John  Stevens  remained  by  the  capstan,  as  it  was 
highest  point,  holding  Blanche  in  his  arms  long 
after  the  ship  had  settled  in  the  sands.  The  waves 
leaped  and  raved  angrily  below;  but  not  a  human 
voice  was  heard.  He  asked  himself  if  Blanche 
were  dead  or  living.  At  last  he  felt  her  move  and, 
placing  his  hand  on  her  heart,  was  rejoiced  to  know 
that  it  still  beat. 

"Father — father!"  she  faintly  murmured. 

"He  is  gone,"  John  answered. 

"Is  this  you?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Cling  to  me." 

"I  will.      We  will  survive  or  perish  together." 

Then  she  became  silent,  and  the  night  grew  black 
er,  while  the  storm  howled;  but  the  waves  receded 
with  the  ebbing  tide,  and  the  broken  hulk  remained 
fast  fixed  in  the  sands.  The  poor  girl  shivered  all 
through  that  night  and  clung  to  her  preserver. 
She  did  not  weep  at  the  loss  of  her  father,  for  the 
horror  of  their  situation  dried  the  fountains  of  grief. 
All  night  long  the  warring  elements  raged  about  the 
remaining  castaways,  who  clung  with  the  tenacity 
of  despair  to  the  wreck. 


CHAPTER   V. 


The  fair  wind  blew,  the  white  foam  flew, 

The  furrow  followed  free  ; 
We  were  the  first  that  ever  burst 

Into  that  silent  sea. 

Down  dropped  the  breeze,  the  sails  dropped  down, 

'Twas  sad  as  sad  could  be; 
And  we  did  speak  only  to  break 

The  silence  of  the  sea. 

— COLERIDGE. 

SINCE  the  art  of  navigation  became  known,  there 
have  been  castaways  in  romance  and  reality  with 
out  number.  De  Foe's  celebrated  Eobinson  Crusoe 
stands  first,  but  not  alone  among  the  shipwrecked 
mariners  of  truth  and  fiction.  How  many  count 
less  thousands  have  suffered  shipwreck  and  disaster 
at  sea,  whose  wild  narratives  have  never  been  re 
corded,  will  never  be  known. 

John  Stevens  was  not  a  reader  of  romance  and 
poetry,  which  at  his  age  were  in  their  infancy  in 
Virginia.  The  hardy  pioneers  of  the  New  World 
were  kept  too  busy  fighting  Indians  and  building 

77 


78  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

plantations  and  cities  to  read  romance  or  history. 
Consequently  he  had  no  similar  adventures  to  com 
pare  with  his  own.  John  had  enough  of  the  sturdy 
Puritan  in  his  nature  to  deeply  feel  the  duty  in 
cumbent  on  him,  and  enough  of  the  cavalier  to  be 
a  gentleman,  unselfish  and  kind. 

Throughout  the  long  night  he  held  the  half  in 
animate  form  of  Blanche  in  his  arms.  The  storm 
abated  and  the  tide  running  out  left  the  vessel  im 
bedded  in  the  sands.  John  watched  for  the  com 
ing  morn  as  a  condemned  criminal  looks  for  a  par 
don.  He  knew  no  east  nor  west  in  the  darkness; 
but  anon  the  sea  and  sky  in  a  certain  place  became 
brighter  and  brighter.  The  clouds  rolled  away, 
and  he  saw  the  bright  morning  star  fade,  as  the 
sable  cloak  of  night  was  rent  to  admit  the  new 
born  day. 

Blanche  sat  up  and  gazed  over  the  scene  as  the 
flashing  rays  of  sunlight  gleamed  over  the  sea  and 
shore. 

"Are  we  all?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Was  no  one  saved?" 

"None  but  ourselves." 

"And  the  ship?" 

"  Is  a  hopeless  wreck  on  the  sands,"  he  answered. 

As  they  rose  to  gaze  upon  their  surroundings, 
John  Stevens  thought  with  regret  that  if  the  crew 


JOHN  STEVENS'    CHARGE.  79 

and  passengers  had  remained  below  hatches,  they 
would  have  been  saved;  but  he  and  Blanche  were 
all  who  remained,  and  he  turned  his  gaze  to  the  wild 
shores  hoping  to  discover  some  sign  of  civilization. 
There  was  not  a  hamlet,  house  or  wigwam  to  indi 
cate  that  Christian  or  savage  inhabited  the  land. 

Blanche  marked  the  troubled  look  on  his  face 
and  asked: 

"  Do  you  know  where  we  are0" 

"No." 

The  shore  was  wild  and  rocky,  and  on  their  right 
it  was  covered  with  a  dense  growth  of  tropical  trees. 
Farther  inland  rose  two  towering  mountains.  The 
beach  directly  before  them  was  low  and  receding. 
A  long,  level  plain,  covered  with  a  dense  growth 
of  coarse  sea-grass,  was  between  them  and  the  hills, 
which  were  covered  with  palms,  maguey  and  other 
tropical  trees. 

John  feared  that  they  had  been  wrecKed  on  the 
coast  of  some  of  the  Spanish  possessions  and  would 
be  made  captives  and  perhaps  slaves  by  the  half- 
civilized  colonists. 

They  could  not  live  long  on  the  wreck,  and  he 
began  to  look  about  the  deck  for  some  means  of 
going  ashore.  The  pinnace  which  had  been  stowed 
away  between  decks  was  an  almost  complete  wreck. 
It  would  have  been  useless  had  it  remained  whole, 
for  John  and  his  companion  could  not  have 


80  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

launched  it.  There  was  a  small  boat  hanging  by 
the  davits,  which  had  sustained  no  other  injury 
than  two  holes  in  its  side.  He  was  a  fair  carpenter, 
and  getting  some  tools  from  the  carpenter's  chest, 
he  mended  the  boat.  After  no  little  trouble,  he 
lowered  the  boat  and,  assisting  Blanche  into  it, 
pulled  to  the  shore  half  a  mile  away. 

It  was  a  shore  on  which  no  human  foot  had  ever 
trod.  The  great  black  stones  which  lay  piled  in 
heaps  along  the  coast  to  the  northeast  until  they 
were  almost  mountain-high  forbade  the  safe  ap 
proach  of  a  vessel.  The  entire  coast  was  armed 
with  bristling  reefs  to  guard  it  against  the  approach 
of  wandering  ships.  It  was  almost  miraculous  that 
they  had  been  driven  in  between  the  reefs  at  the 
only  visible  opening.  A  hundred  paces  in  either 
direction  their  vessel  would  have  been  forced  upon 
the  rocks 

"Is  this  country  inhabited?"  asked  Blanche, 
when  they  had  landed,  and  made  fast  their  boat  to 
a  great  stone. 

"I  fear  not,"  he  answered;  "or,  if  inhabited,  it 
is  probably  by  savages." 

"Should  that  be  true,  ours  will  be  a  sad  fate." 

"I  will  not  desert  you,"  he  answered. 

They  sat  down  on  the  dry  white  sand  to  rest  and 
gazed  at  the  wreck,  with  its  head  high  in  the  air 
and  its  stern  low  in  the  water. 


JOHN  STEVENS'   CHARGE.  81 

"We  made  a  mistake  in  not  bringing  some  arms 
to  defend  ourselves  against  savages  or  wild  beasts," 
said  John. 

"Can  we  not  go  back  for  them?" 

"Would  you  be  afraid  to  remain  on  the  beach 
while  I  went?"  he  asked. 

She  said  she  would  not,  though  he  noticed  her 
cast  nervous  glances  toward  the  thickets  and  for 
ests  inland.  As  he  pushed  out  once  more  into  the 
shallow  waters  lying  between  the  beach  and  wreck, 
she  came  down  so  close  to  the  water's  edge  that  the 
waves  almost  touched  her  toes. 

"You  won't  be  long  gone?"  she  called  in  a  low, 
sweet  voice,  trembling  with  dread. 

"No." 

He  reached  the  wreck  and  went  on  board  bv 
means  of  broken  shrouds  lashed  to  the  gunwale. 
The  sun  shone  as  brightly  and  the  sky  was  as 
peaceful  as  if  no  storm  had  ever  swept  over  it. 
The  deck  was  almost  dry,  and,  the  hatches  having 
been  fastened,  John  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find 
but  little  damage  done  by  the  water.  He  went 
down  to  the  companion-way  and  found  less  water 
in  the  hold  than  he  expected.  He  brought  out  two 
muskets,  a  pair  of  pistols,  a  keg  of  powder,  and 
bullets  enough  for  his  arms.  The  guns  and  the 
pistols  were  all  flint-locks,  for  at  this  time  match 
lock  and  wheel-lock  had  about  gone  out  of  use. 
6 


82  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

A  dagger  and  a  sword  were  also  added  to  the  ar 
mament,  which  John  lowered  into  his  boat.  Then 
he  remembered  that  Blanche  had  had  no  food,  and 
he  bethought  himself  of  some  provisions.  He 
went  again  into  the  hold  and,  thanks  to  the 
care  of  the  cook  in  stowing  away  the  provisions, 
found  most  of  them  dry  and  snug  in  the  fore-part 
of  the  vessel.  He  got  out  a  small  chest  of  sea  bis 
cuits,  a  Holland  cheese,  and  some  dried  fish,  which 
he  carried  to  his  boat.  He  paused  a  moment  to 
gaze  at  Blanche,  who  sat  on  a  stone  watching  him. 
The  almost  tropical  sun  beating  down  upon  her  de 
fenceless  head  suggested  the  need  of  some  sort  of 
shelter,  and  he  procured  some  canvas  and  threw 
in  an  axe  and  pair  of  hatchets  to  cut  poles  and  ar 
range  a  tent  or  shelter  for  her. 

Having  at  last  loaded  his  boat  he  set  out  for 
shore.  The  tide  was  fast  setting  in  and  bore  him 
rapidly  onward.  Landing  he  unloaded  his  boat, 
and  asked: 

"Have  you  seen  any  one?" 

"No." 

"I  have  brought  some  food." 

"It  will  be  useless  without  water.  I  am  very 
thirsty,"  she  said. 

"We  will  go  farther  inland,  where  we  must 
find  fresh  water,"  he  said  hopefully. 

John  saw  that  Blanche  had  no  covering  for  her 


JOHN  STEVENS'    CHARGE.  83 

head,  and  the  sun's  rays  made  her  faint.  He  gave 
her  his  hat  and  for  himself  fashioned  a  cap  of  palm 
leaves.  They  went  inland  until  they  came  to  some 
tall  trees,  which  afforded  a  grateful  shade.  Here 
he  induced  Blanche  to  rest,  while  he  went  further 
in  search  of  fresh  water.  She  was  tired,  and  had 
a  dread  of  being  left  alone  in  this  strange  land; 
but  Blanche  was  reasonable  and  waited  beneath  the 
tall  palms  gazing  on  the  coast,  the  sea  and  the 
wreck  lying  on  trie  sands. 

"It  might  have  been  worse,"  she  thought. 
"  While  all  our  friends  and  companions  have  per 
ished,  we  are  saved.  God  surely  will  not  desert 
us.  Having  preserved  us  thus  far  for  some  pur 
pose,  he  will  not  suffer  us  to  perish  until  that  pur 
pose  is  accomplished.  I  alone  might  have  been 
spared  to  perish  miserably  in  a  strange  land." 

Meanwhile,  John  Stevens  was  roaming  among 
the  rocks  and  hills  for  fresh  water.  Great  black 
ened  stones  parched  and  dry  as  the  sands  of  Sahara 
met  his  view  on  every  side,  and  no  sight  of  water 
was  found  until  he  came  to  a  dark  shallow  pool  so 
warm  that  he  could  not  drink  it. 

"Heaven  help  us  ere  we  perish,"  he  groaned, 
wandering  among  the  rocks  and  trees.  "If  we 
don't  find  water  soon  she  will  die." 

He  threw  himself  on  the  ground  in  despair,  and 
as  he  lay  there,  he  thought  he  heard  a  trickling 


84  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

sound.  He  started  up,  fearing  that  his  ears  de 
ceived  him;  but  no,  they  did  not.  Beyond  a  moss- 
covered  stone  of  great  size  was  a  clear,  sparkling 
rivulet  of  bright,  crystal  water,  falling  into  a  stone 
basin  of  considerable  depth,  lie  stooped  and  found 
it  sweet  arid  cool.  Oh,  so  refreshing!  Slaking 
his  thirst,  ho  next  thought  of  his  suffering  compan 
ion  under  the  trees  beyond  the  hill,  a,nd  for  the 
first  time  he  reflected  that  he  had  failed  to  provide 
himself  with  any  vessel  to  carry  water.  There 
was  no  bucket  or  cup  nearer  than  the  ship,  and  she 
might  perish  before  he  could  bring  anything  from 
there.  He  set  his  gun  against  a  rock  and,  pluck 
ing  some  broad  palm  leaves,  made  a  cup  which 
would  hold  about  a  pint. 

All  this  required  time,  and  lie  was  constantly 
tortured  with  the  recollection  that  his  charge  was 
suffering  with  thirst.  With  the  improvised  cup 
full  of  water,  he  hastened  to  the  almost  fainting  girl 
and  said  gladly: 

"I  have  found  pure,  sweet  water  in  abundance. 
Drink  of  this,  and  we  will  go  at  once  to  the  spring." 

She  eagerly  seized  the  leaf  cup  and  drank,  then 
found  herself  strong  enough  to  cross  the  hill  to  the 
precious  fountain. 

John  left  one  of  the  guns  with  her,  the  other 
was  at  the  spring;  but  the  sword  and  pistols  he 
kept  at  his  belt. 


JOHN  STEVENS'   CHARGE.  85 

Taking  the  provisions  and  musket  they  set  out 
for  the  spring.  Here  they  bathed  their  hot  faces 
and  refreshed  themselves. 

"Now  let  us  have  food,"  said  John. 

The  sea-biscuit  and  dried  fish  were  wholesome, 
and  they  ate  with  a  relish.  John  Stevens  wanted 
to  climb  a  lofty  hill  about  two  miles  away,  from 
which  he  hoped  to  have  a  good  view  of  the  sur 
rounding  country. 

"Can  we  from  there  determine  what  land  we  are 
on?"  she  asked. 

"I  hope  so." 

"If  there  be  cities,  will  we  see  them?" 

"We  shall,"  he  answered. 

"Have  you  no  hopes  nor  fears?" 

"I  have  both." 

"What  are  your  hopes?" 

"My  hopes  are  that  this  is  one  of  the  Bermuda 
Islands." 

"And  your  fears?" 

"That  this  is  one  of  the  West  India  Islands,  or 
a  part  of  the  Florida  coast,  under  control  of  the 
Spaniards." 

"Did  you  hear  the  captain  say  where  we  were 
before  the  ship  struck?" 

"No;  he  was  a  most  incompetent  master,  and 
knew  not  where  we  were." 

"Whether  we  are  in  the  land  of  enemies  or 


86  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

friends,  it  will  be  better  to  know  the  truth,"  rea 
soned  Blanche. 

"Are  you  atrong  enough  for  the  walk?" 

She  thought  she  was,  and  they  started  on  their 
journey  of  exploration.  One  of  the  guns  was  left 
with  the  provisions  at  the  spring;  but  John  carried 
the  other. 

The  distance  to  the  hill  proved  greater  than  they 
had  supposed,  and  before  they  reached  the  base, 
the  sun,  sinking  low  in  the  heavens,  admonished 
them  that  night  would  overtake  them  before  the 
summit  could  possibly  be  gained. 

John  called  a  halt  and  asked: 

"Shall  we  go  on,  or  return  to  the  beach  ?" 

Blanche  gazed  on  the  frowning  hills  and  bluffs 
before  them  and  thought  it  best  to  return.  Those 
gloomy  mountain  wilds  were  terrible  after  dark, 
and  she  thought  they  would  find  it  more  congenial 
nearer  the  wreck. 

They  returned  to  the  beach.  The  inflowing  tide 
had  lifted  their  boat  and  borne  it  further  up  on  the 
sands. 

"Will  it  not  be  carried  off?"  Blanche  asked. 

"  No,  I  have  it  anchored  with  a  heavy  stone,  so 
it  cannot  be  carried  out." 

John  cut  four  poles  and  drove  them  into  the 
ground  and  spread  the  canvas  over  it,  forming  a 
shelter  for  Blanche.  He  had  brought  a  blanket 


JOHN  STEVENS'    CHARGE.  87 

from  the  wreck,  which,  with  some  of  the  coarse 
grass  he  cut  with  his  sword,  formed  a  bed  for  his 
charge.  A  box  which  he  had  brought  from  the 
ship  afforded  her  a  seat. 

They  had  not  found  a  human  being,  nor  had 
they  seen  a  single  animal.  A  few  sea-birds  flying 
high  in  the  air  were  the  only  living  creatures  which 
had  greeted  their  vision  since  landing. 

"Will  you  be  afraid  to  remain  here  while  I  go 
for  the  provisions  and  musket  left  at  the  spring?" 
asked  John. 

"No,  we  have  nothing  to  fear." 
"  I  believe  this  part  of  the  coast  to  be  entirely 
uninhabited." 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  went  for  the  gun 
and  provisions.  The  walk  was  longer  than  he 
thought,  for  he  was  tired  with  the  day's  toil  and 
was  compelled  to  walk  slowly.  When  about  half 
way  to  the  spot  he  heard  a  rustling  in  the  tall  grass 
and  paused  to  discover  the  cause.  Cocking  his 
gun,  he  tried  to  pierce  the  jungle,  not  fully 
decided  whether  the  noise  were  made  by  man  or 
beast. 

A  moment  later  he  heard  something  running 
away.  It  was  beyond  question  a  wild  animal, 
frightened  at  his  approach.  He  did  not  get  a 
glimpse  of  it  and  was  unable  to  tell  what  it  was 
like. 


88  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"If  a  beast,"  he  thought,  "it  is  the  only  one  I 
have  met  with  since  landing  on  the  coast." 

From  the  rustling  it  made,  it  was  no  doubt  small 
and  little  to  be  feared.  He  listened  for  a  moment, 
and  then  hurried  on  to  the  spring. 

"Blanche will  be  lonesome, "he thought.  "Her 
father  placed  her  in  my  charge,  and  I  will  protect 
her  if  I  can." 

Climbing  the  rnoss-grown  stone,  he  descended 
into  a  dark  ravine  to  the  spring.  The  sun  was  set 
by  this  time,  and  the  sombre  shades  of  twilight 
began  to  spread  over  the  scene.  His  eager  eyes 
pierced  the  gathering  gloom  and  discovered  that 
the  food  left  had  been  attacked  by  animals  and  the 
biscuit  devoured. 

He  searched  the  ground,  and  saw  footprints. 

"Some  animals  have  been  here,"  he  thought. 
"They  evidently  did  not  like  dried  fish,  for, 
though  they  have  trampled  over  them,  they  have 
devoured  none;  but  the  sea-biscuits  are  all  gone." 

It  was  impossible  to  determine  what  sort  of  ani 
mals  they  were,  but  he  was  quite  sure  they  were 
not  dangerous. 

He  took  up  the  gun  and  returned  to  the  tent, 
where  he  related  to  Blanche  the  loss  of  their  bis 
cuits. 

"Then  there  are  animals  on  the  land,"  she  said. 

"Yes;    but   they    are    not   dangerous,"  he    re- 


JOHN  STEVENS'    CHARGE.  89 

turned.  "These  animals  may  prove  useful  to  us 
for  food." 

"I  hope  so." 

After  several  moments,  she  asked: 

"How  long  must  we  stay?" 

"  I  know  not.  Had  I  not  better  take  the  boat 
and  go  to  the  wreck  for  more  food?" 

"No,  not  to-night,"  she  answered  with  a  shud 
der.  "I  prefer  to  go  without  food  than  to  be  left 
an  hour  alone  in  the  approaching  night." 

He  had  a  sea-biscuit  in  his  pocket,  which  he 
gave  her  and  made  his  own  supper  of  dried  fish. 
With  flint,  steel  and  some  powder,  he  kindled  afire 
near  the  tent  and  sat  down  before  it  with  a  gun 
across  his  knees  and  another  at  his  side,  his  back 
against  a  tree.  Thus  he  prepared  to  pass  the  night, 
urging  his  companion  to  go  to  sleep  in  the  tent. 

Patient,  confiding  Blanche  went  and  laid  down  to 
sleep.  She  had  borne  up  well,  not  uttering  a  sin 
gle  complaint  throughout  all  their  trying  ordeals. 

As  John  sat  there  keeping  guard  over  his  charge, 
his  mind  went  back  across  the  wild  waste  01  waters 
to  the  home  he  had  left.  He  seemed  to  feel  the 
soft  baby  hands  of  little  Rebecca  on  his  face,  or 
hear  the  prattling  of  his  boy  at  play.  His  wife's 
great,  dark  eyes  looked  at  him  from  out  the  gloom, 
and  he  sighed  as  he  thought  how  improbable  it 
was  that  he  would  ever  see  them  again.  Wrecked 


90  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

on  an  unknown  shore,  with  dangers  and  difficulties 
to  surmount,  what  hope  had  he  of  the  future? 

"Heaven  watch  over  and  guard  my  helpless  ones 
at  home,  as  I  guard  the  charge  entrusted  to  me," 
he  prayed. 

His  fire  was  not  so  much  to  keep  off  the  cold  as 
wild  animals.  The  distant  roar  of  the  ocean  beat 
ing  on  the  shore  broke  the  silence.  The  low  and 
melancholy  sound  fell  on  the  ear  of  the  unfortunate 
man,  and,  raising  his  eyes  to  the  stars,  he  thought: 

"The  same  stars  shine  for  them,  and  the  same 
God  keeps  watch  over  all.  May  his  guardian  an 
gels  watch  over  the  loved  ones  at  home  until  the 
father  and  husband  returns." 

John's  heart  was  heavy.  His  fire  had  burned 
low,  and  he  had  forgotten  to  replenish  it.  Sud 
denly  upon  the  air  there  came  a  half  growl  and  half 
howl,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  a  pair  of  fiery  eyes 
flashing  upon  him.  An  animal  was  approaching 
the  tent.  John  cocked  his  gun,  aimed  at  the  two 
blazing  eyes  and  fired. 

In  a  moment  the  eyes  disappeared,  and  Blanche, 
alarmed  at  the  report  of  the  gun,  sprang  from  the 
tent  and  wildly  asked: 

"What  was  it?     Are  we  attacked?" 

"  Peace!  It  was  only  an  animal,  which  I  should 
judge  to  be  a  fox,"  assured  John. 

The  report  of  the  gun  awakened  a   thousand 


JOHN  STEVENS'    CHARGE.  01 

slumbering  sea-fowls,  which  arose  screaming  on 
the  air  in  every  direction.  John  listened  to  hear 
some  animal,  but  not  a  growl  and  not  a  cry  came 
on  the  air.  After  a  few  moments  all  was  quiet 
once  more,  and  he  begged  his  charge  to  retire  to 
sleep,  while  he  took  up  his  post  as  guard. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    ISLAND    OF    DESOLATION. 

I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute : 
From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  sea 

I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute. 
O  Solitude  !  where  are  the  charms 

That  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face? 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms 

Than  reign  in  this  horrible  place. 

— COWPER. 

NEXT  morning  Stevens  went  to  find  the  animal, 
at  whose  eyes  lie  had  fired  during  the  night;  but 
it  was  gone  without  leaving  even  a  trace  of  blood 
behind  it.  The  boat  had  sustained  some  damages 
during  the  night  from  the  surf  dashing  it  against  the 
rocks;  but  he  managed  to  reach  the  wreck  with  it, 
where  he  quickly  mended  the  seam  started  in  its 
side. 

He  brought  away  a  cask  of  fresh  water,  a  chest 
of  sea-biscuit,  some  Holland  cheese,  wine,  salt  pork 
and  more  dried  fish.  After  they  had  dined,  they 
set  out  to  the  nearest  mountain,  from  the  peak  of 
which  they  hoped  to  get  a  survey  of  the  surround- 
92 


THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION.  93 

ing  country.  He  tried  to  induce  Blanche  to  re 
main,  but  she  insisted  on  accompanying  him. 

Nothing  is  more  deceitful  than  distance,  and  they 
were  compelled  to  pause  and  rest  before  they  had 
reached  the  bluffs  and  foot-hills  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain.  While  resting  there,  they  heard  a  scam 
pering  of  feet,  accompanied  by  the  loud  snort  of 
frightened  animals  flying  from  the  plateau  above 
them.  They  were  gone  before  John  and  his  com 
panion  were  able  to  get  a  sight  of  them. 

"What  are  they?"  she  asked. 

"I  know  not,  yet  they  seem  to  have  a  greater 
dread  of  us  than  we  have  of  them." 

Resuming  their  journey  they  had  not  proceeded 
half  a  mile,  when  John  espied  one  of  them  looking 
down  upon  him  and  his  companion  from  an  airy 
cliff.  Its  bristling  horns,  long  beard,  and  keen 
eyes  were  visible,  though  the  ferns  and  grass  con 
cealed  its  body. 

"It  is  a  goat,"  he  said.  "The  animals  which 
we  discovered  were  goats,  and  we  have  nothing  to 
fear  from  them." 

A  little  further  on,  he  discovered  a  fox  in  the 
bushes.  The  animal  was  unacquainted  with  man 
and  was  very  tame.  It  stood  until  they  were 
within  a  few  paces  of  it,  and  then  it  trotted  off  a 
short  distance  and  halted  to  look  at  them.  John's 
first  impulse  was  to  shoot  it;  but,  on  a  second 


94  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

thought,  he  decided  to  reserve  his  fire  for  some 
larger  and  more  useful  game.  At  last  the  summit 
of  the  nearest  hill  was  gained,  and  from  it  they  had 
a  survey  of  the  country  and  discovered  that  they 
were  on  an  island.  Stevens'  heart  sank  within  him 
at  the  discovery,  for  now  no  human  help  was  within 
their  reach.  The  fear  of  Spaniards  and  savages 
gave  place  to  the  greater  dread  of  passing  their 
lives  on  a  desolate  island. 

The  island  was  about  sixteen  miles  long  by  ten 
wide.  It  had  four  lofty  mountains  in  the  centre, 
one  of  which  was  so  high  as  to  be  above  the  clouds 
and  covered  at  the  peak  with  snow.  These  lofty 
elevations  supplied  the  island  with  an  abundance 
of  pure,  fresh  water.  In  the  fertile  valleys  below 
grew  bread-fruit  and  oranges  in  profusion  and  many 
wild  berries  and  vegetables  excellent  for  food. 
They  spent  four  days  in  exploring  the  island,  hop 
ing  to  find  some  sort  of  inhabitants,  but  were  dis 
appointed.  Goats,  foxes  and  a  species  of  gray 
squirrel  were  the  principal  animals  on  the  island. 
None  were  very  dangerous;  but  the  foxes  proved 
to  be  mischievous  thieves,  and  stole  all  of  their 
provisions  they  could  come  at.  Stevens  began  an 
early  war  against  them,  and  shot  them  wherever 
they  could  be  found. 

Far  to  the  north  were  two  more  islands  evidently 
cot  so  large  as  the  one  on  which  they  were  cast. 


THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION.  95 

Dangerous  reefs  lay  between  them  and  all  about 
the  three  islands,  making  navigation  difficult  if 
not  impossible. 

Blanche  bore  the  journey  well  and  did  not  give 
way  to  despair  even  when  they  discovered  that  they 
were  on  an  uninhabited  island.  For  her  sake  Ste 
vens  kept  up  a  show  of  courage,  though  he  found 
despair  rising  within  his  breast. 

"  We  must  get  the  provisions  and  tools  from  off 
the  wreck,"  he  said,  "and  make  our  stay  here  as 
comfortable  as  possible. 

"How  long  will  that  stay  be?"  she  asked. 

"God  in  heaven  alone  can  tell." 

"Surely  some  passing  ship  will  see  us." 

He  hoped  so;  but  that  reef -girt  shore  seemed  to 
forbid  the  approach  of  a  vessel.  Nevertheless  he 
set  up  long  poles  with  flags  on  them  at  different 
points  of  the  island,  so  that  a  passing  ship  might 
see  them  for  miles  out  to  sea. 

Then  he  began  the  work  of  unloading  the  wreck. 
There  was  an  inlet  or  mouth  of  a  creek  not  far 
from  the  place  where  they  first  landed,  and,  con 
structing  a  raft  on  the  wreck  and  loading  it  with 
arms,  provisions,  ammunition  and  tools,  they  took 
advantage  of  the  tide  to  float  it  in  to  shore.  This 
was  repeated  daily  for  weeks.  Clothing,  sails, 
provisions  of  all  kinds,  half  a  hundred  guns  and 
as  many  pistols  and  cutlasses,  with  other  weapons, 


96  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

tools,  books,  writing  material,  and,  in  fact,  every 
thing  that  could  possibly  be  of  service  was  brought 
off  from  the  wreck.  They  were  favored  with  mild 
weather,  and  John,  soon  learning  to  take  advan 
tage  of  the  tides,  had  no  difficulty  in  landing  the 
goods. 

The  shore  was  strewn  with  boxes,  barrels,  arms, 
bales  and  piles  of  goods,  with  tools,  provisions, 
rafts  and  broken  bits  of  lumber,  for  he  decided  to 
bring  away  as  much  of  the  wreck  as  he  could,  for 
the  boards  would  be  very  useful  in  the  construction 
of  houses.  Weeks  were  spent  in  this  arduous  toil, 
and  their  efforts  were  fully  rewarded. 

The  foxes  proved  their  only  annoyance,  and  Ste 
vens  shot  them  until  they  became  more  shy.  He 
killed  nineteen  in  a  single  night.  It  became  neces 
sary  to  make  a  strong  wooden  cage,  or  box  to  keep 
their  food  in;  but  the  salt  junk  was  scented  by  the 
foxes,  and  they  gathered  about  it  in  great  numbers 
and  made  the  night  hideous  with  their  howls. 

At  last  he  hit  upon  a  plan  which  nearly  exter 
minated  the  foxes  and  rid  them  of  the  nuisance. 
Among  other  articles  brought  from  the  ship  was 
poison.  He  shot  a  goat  and,  while  it  was  warm 
and  bleeding,  cut  it  open,  poisoned  the  meat  and 
left  it  where  the  foxes  could  get  at  it. 

Early  in  the  night  the  fighting,  snapping  and 
snarling  began,  and  the  next  morning  the  woods 


THE  ISLAND   OF  DESOLATION.  97 

were  filled  with  dead  foxes,  so  it  was  years  before 
the  howl  of  another  was  heard. 

Fully  realizing  the  importance  of  making  haste  in 
removing  the  wreck  to  the  shore,  he  worked  with 
more  than  human  efforts  until  he  had  gotten  off 
almost  everything  of  value.  Blanche  aided  him 
all  she  could,  and  when  their  tents  were  up,  her 
Womanly  instincts  as  housekeeper  gave  a  homelike 
appearance  to  them. 

Having  brought  off  all  that  was  valuable,  he 
built  a  house  close  under  a  bluff,  where  a  project 
ing  shelf  of  rock  covered  a  small  grotto,  which  he 
enlarged  with  pick  and  shovel.  Before  the  rainy 
season  set  in,  he  had  a  comfortable  house.  They 
had  a  store  of  provisions  enough  to  last  for  two 
years,  and,  in  addition,  John  brought  away  Indian 
corn,  barley,  and  wheat  which  he  planted  and,  to 
his  delight,  discovered  that  it  grew  well.  Being 
a  farmer,  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should  give  his 
thoughts  to  agriculture. 

John  was  industrious,  thoughtful  and,  having 
been  brought  up  in  the  colony,  was  calculated  to 
make  the  wilderness  bloom  as  Virginia  had  done. 
His  axe  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  forest,  and  he 
'busied  himself  building  houses,  planting  fields, 
and  providing  for  their  comforts.  All  the  while 
the  flags  were  kept  flying  from  the  hills,  in  hopes 
of  attracting  some  passing  ship. 
7 


98  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Two  years  glided  by,  and  not  a  sail  had  been 
seen  on  the  ocean.  The  wreck  had  disappeared; 
but  John  and  Blanche  were  provided  with  comfor 
table  homes.  They  had  tamed  the  goats,  exter 
minated  the  foxes,  and  their  fields  waved  with  corn, 
wheat  and  barley.  To  grind  their  corn,  John,  who 
was  something  of  a  genius,  invented  a  mill  from 
two  stones.  The  wild  fruits  and  berries  of  the 
island  improved  under  cultivation  and  yielded  a 
greater  abundance.  Their  floors  were  covered  with 
rush  mats,  and  the  furniture  brought  from  the  wreck 
gave  to  the  rooms  a  comfortable  and  homelike  air. 

It  was  evening,  and  the  sitting-room  was  lighted 
by  candles  made  of  goat's  tallow.  John  Stevens 
was  reading  aloud  from  a  Bible  and  Blanche  sat 
listening  with  rapt  attention. 

"  Read  more,"  she  said  when  he  had  finished  the 
page.  "What  a  blessing  to  know  that  even  in 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  God  is  with  us." 

"Verily,  it  is  a  comfort." 

"Should  we  die  here,  He  will  be  with  us." 

"God  is  everywhere.  He  will  not  desert  us," 
John  said. 

"But  I  hope  we  will  yet  be  rescued." 

"I  trust  so." 

He  closed  his  book  and  placed  it  on  the  table  at 
his  side  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  She 
watched  his  strong  emotion  with  eyes  which  were 


THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION.  99 

moist  with  sympathy,  and,  rising,  came  to  his  side 
and  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  are  stronger  than  I,"  she  said,  "why 
should  you  grieve  more  at  our  calamity?  Surely 
God  is  with  us." 

The  tears  were  trickling  through  his  fingers  and 
his  frame  was  convulsed  with  emotion.  She  noted 
his  grief  and,  to  encourage  him,  added: 

"God  is  everywhere;  he  is  here;  he  will  guard 
and  watch  over  us,  and,  if  it  be  his  pleasure  that 
we  escape  from  this  island,  he  will  send  some  ship 
to  our  deliverance." 

"My  burden  is  greater  than  I  can  bear." 

"Remember  He  said,  'Take  my  yoke  upon  you, 
for  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my  burden  is  light.' 
Trust  all  to  Jesus,  and  He  will  give  you  strength." 

"You  are  all  alone  in  the  world,  Blanche." 

"Yes." 

"You  have  not  a  relative  living." 

"No,  my  father  was  lost." 

"  I  wish  I  had  none.  It  is  not  for  myself  that  I 
grieve,  but  the  helpless  ones  at  home." 

"Helpless— 

"My  wife  and  children." 

Blanche,  shocked  and  amazed,  gazed  at  him  in 
silence.  The  blood  forsook  her  face,  her  breast 
heaved,  and  her  breath  came  in  painful  gasps.  He 
had  never  before  in  all  the  two  years  they  had 


100  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

been  alone  upon  the  island  mentioned  his  wife  and 
children. 

"  I  left  them  to  better  my  fortune,"  he  continued. 
"They  were  so  helpless  and  I  so  poor;  but  I  did 
what  I  thought  best.  Last  night  I  saw  them  in 
my  dreams,  her  great  bright  eyes  all  red  with  weep 
ing,  and  my  baby's  warm  little  hands  were  again 
about  my  neck  imploring  me  to  come  home  in  ac 
cents  so  pathetic  and  sweet,  they  melted  my  heart. 
My  blue-eyed  Robert  was  no  longer  gay,  but  mel 
ancholy.  O  God,  give  rnc  the  wings  of  a  dove  that 
I  may  go  and  see  them  again!" 

His  head  fell  on  the  table  and  his  whole  frame 
shook  with  emotion,  while  Blanche,  with  her  own 
sad  beautiful  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  could  not 
utter  a  word  of  consolation.  When  he  had  par 
tially  recovered  she  asked: 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before,  you  might 
have  had  my  sympathy  all  along." 

"I  did  not  care  to  burden  you  with  my  griefs." 

"Trust  in  God." 

"I  do;  but  this  dark  uncertainty;  my  helpless 
children." 

"They  have  their  mother." 

"She  is  unpractical,  knows  nothing  of  life  and 
is  as  helpless  as  the  children.  The  little  money 
left  her  has  been  spent  long  before  this,  and  they 
are — Heaven  only  knows  what  ills  they  may  en- 


THE  ISLAND   OF  DESOLATIOX. 


101 


dure.  So  long  as  I  was  with  them,  I  shielded  them 
from  the  rude  blasts  of  the  world;  but  now  they 
are  without  a  protector." 

Overcome  with  the  sad  picture  he  had  created  in 
his  mind,  he  buried  his  face  again  in  his  hands. 
Once  more  Blanche  sought  to  soothe  his  cares  by 


BLANCHE  COULD  NOT  UTTER  A  WORD  OF  CONSOLATION. 

assuring  him  that  He  who  watched  the  sparrow's 
fall  would  in  some  way  care  for  his  loved  ones  at 
home. 

The  years  rolled  on,  and  day  by  day  he  climbed 
the  top  of  the  nearest  hill  and  gazed  off  to  the  sea, 
hoping  to  discern  a  sail,  but  in  vain. 


102  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

He  had  brought  the  captain's  glasses  from  the 
ship,  and  with  this  often  gazed  at  the  two  islands 
toward  the  north  with  longing  eyes.  Did  they 
connect  with  the  main  land  where  people  dwelt, 
and  from  which  they  might  find  means  of  trans 
portation  to  the  home  which  he  sometimes  feared 
he  might  never  again  behold? 

"Would  it  be  too  dangerous  to  undertake  a 
voyage  to  those  islands?"  Blanche  asked  one  day 
when  they  were  gazing  for  the  thousandth  time  at 
them. 

"  If  we  had  a  suitable  boat  we  might  attempt  it." 

"How  is  our  own  boat?" 

"Too  frail.     The  boards  are  almost  rotten." 

"Then  why  not  make  one?" 

The  idea  was  a  good  one,  for  it  promised  him 
employment.  He  felled  a  large  tree  and  proceeded 
to  make  a  dug-out  such  as  the  Indians  of  Virginia 
used. 

Blanche  helped  him  and  was  so  cheerful,  kind 
and  considerate,  that  often,  as  he  gazed  on  her 
beautiful  face,  he  sighed: 

"  Had  Dorothe  possessed  her  spirit,  this  misery 
would  have  been  averted."  He  felt  a  twinge  of 
conscience  at  rebuking  his  wife,  even  in  thought. 
No  doubt  she  had  paid  dearly  for  her  folly. 

The  boat  at  last  was  completed,  and  he  rigged  a 
sail  for  it,  and  together  they  set  out  for  the  dis  - 


THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION.  103 

tant  islands.  They  glided  over  the  water,  catching 
a  glimpse  of  a  man-eating  shark,  which  made  them 
shudder  with  dread. 

With  fair  wind  and  tide  they  reached  the  nearest 
island  that  day.  It  was  nearly  as  large  as  their  own, 
and  the  shore  was  fully  as  dangerous.  The  next 
was  smaller,  and  both  were  wooded,  with  low  hills, 
but  poorly  watered.  They  found  goats  and  foxes 
abounding  on  each,  but  no  indication  that  a  hu 
man  being  had  ever  been  there.  All  about  on 
every  side  was  the  vast  ocean,  stretching  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  with  the  eternal  wash  of 
waves  on  the  rocks. 

Spreading  their  tent  on  the  shore,  they  passed  the 
night  on  the  island  nearest  their  own,  and  were 
greatly  annoyed  by  foxes  and  mosquitoes,  so  that 
with  early  dawn  they  were  glad  to  return  home. 

One  never  knows  how  to  appreciate  home  until 
they  have  been  away,  and  John  seemed  to  take  a 
new  interest  in  his  house,  fields  and  the  tame  goats 
of  his  island. 

Yet  in  the  night,  when  slumber  had  sealed  his 
eyelids,  he  saw  in  that  far-away  home  his  wife's 
pale  face,  and  felt  his  baby's  soft  arms  once  more 
about  his  neck,  and  in  his  agony  he  cried  out: 
"God  send  some  ship  to  deliver  me!" 
Day  by  day  as  the  years  rolled  on,  John  Stevens 
saw  more  and  more  to  admire  in  the  companion 


104  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

with  whom  his  lot  was  cast.  When  he  was  sick 
or  tired  she  watched  over  him  with  all  the  tender 
care  of  a  sister  or  mother.  When  he  was  saddest 
she  whispered  words  of  hope  and  cheer  in  his  ear. 
In  fact  Blanche  was  an  ideal  woman,  a  comforter 
and  a  helper. 

"How  could  I  live  here  without  you,  Blanche?" 
he  said  one  day. 

"Heaven  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb," 
she  answered.  "Nothing  is  so  bad  that  it  could 
not  be  worse."  Blanche  was  a  pure  Christian 
girl.  No  influence  on  earth  could  swerve  her  from 
a  course  marked  out  for  her  by  her  intellect  and 
approved  by  her  conscience.  She  was  a  devout 
Christian,  and  when  her  companion,  in  the  bitter 
ness  of  his  soul,  was  rebellious,  her  sweet  Christian 
influence  led  him  back  to  God. 

In  the  stillness  of  life,  talent  is  formed;  but  in 
the  storm  and  stress  of  adverse  circumstances  char 
acter  is  fashioned.  Had  Blanche  returned  to  Lon 
don  she  might  have  become  a  society  lady ;  but . 
here  she  was  a  consoler,  binding  up  the  broken 
heart.  She  would  sit  for  hours  by  John's  side 
talking  with  him  about  his  wife  and  children  in 
far-off  Virginia,  and  she  never  went  to  sleep  with 
out  praying  Heaven  by  some  means  to  take  the 
father  and  husband  back  to  his  loved  ones. 

"I  went  to  the  cliff  this  morning,"  she  said, 


THE  ISLAND  OF  DESOLATION.  105 

"thinking  I  might  see  a  sail,  but  I  was  disap 
pointed." 

"Why  did  you  think  to  see  a  sail,  Blanche?"  he 
asked. 

"I  dreamed  last  night  that  a  ship  came  for  you 
and  took  you  home.  Ob,  how  glad  I  was,  when 
I  saw  you  happy  again  with  your  dear  wife  and 
the  baby  on  your  knee,  its  little  warm  hands  on 
your  face!" 

After  a  long  silence,  he  asked: 

"Blanche,  how  long  have  we  been  here?" 

"Ten  years,"  she  answered. 

Blanche  not  only  had  kept  a  complete  journal 
since  the  day  of  their  shipwreck,  but  had  written 
a  faithful  description  of  the  island,  giving  its  re 
sources  and  describing  the  coast.  To  John  it 
seemed  but  yesterday  since  he  kissed  the  tender 
cheek  of  his  babe,  bade  his  wife  a  farewell  and 
sailed  away. 

Ten  years  had  made  their  impress  on  him.  His 
hair  was  growing  gray,  and  his  beard  was  quite 
frosty.  It  was  not  age  that  whitened  his  hair  so 
much  as  it  was  his  ten  years  of  suffering.  Ten 
years  had  developed  Blanche  from  a  beautiful  girl 
to  a  glorious  woman  of  twenty-eight,  more  beauti 
ful  at  twenty-eight  than  eighteen. 

"  Blanche,  would  ten  years  change  a  baby  ?"  John 
asked. 


106  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Yes." 

"Then  my  baby  is  a  baby  no  longer, "  sighed  the 
father. 

"No;  she  is  a  pretty  little  girl  now." 

"And  has  no  recollection  of  her  father?" 

"How  could  she?" 

"But  my  little  boy?" 

"He  was  five  when  you  left  home?" 

"No,  not  quite;  four  and  some  months." 

"Then  he  would  remember  you." 

"He  is  a  good-sized  boy." 

"Almost  fifteen,"  she  answered. 

"Heaven  grant  I  may  yet  see  them!" 

"Amen!"  replied  Blanche.  "God  has  not  for 
gotten  you;  our  prayers  will  be  heard." 

John  made  no  answer.  He  arose,  took  his  gun 
and  went  out  among  the  hills. 

"When  he  talks  of  them,"  Blanche  thought,  "he 
always  goes  to  the  hills.  God  grant  he  does  not 
die  of  despair,  for  then  I  would  be  all  alone  on  this 
island  of  desolation." 

Tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  and,  falling  on  her 
knees,  she  breathed  a  fervent  prayer. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN    WIDOW'S    WEEDS. 

Go  ;  you  may  call  it  madness,  folly  ; 
You  may  not  chase  my  gloom  away. 
There's  such  a  charm  in  melancholy, 
I  would  not,  if  I  could,  be  gay. 

—ROGERS. 

DOROTHE  STEVENS  was  not  a  woman  to  take 
misfortune  much  to  heart.  She  watched  the  ship 
in  which  her  husband  sailed  until  it  vanished  from 
sight,  shed  a  few  tears,  heaved  a  few  sighs  and 
went  home  to  see  if  the  negro  slave  had  prepared 
breakfast.  She  smiled  next  day,  and  before  the 
week  was  past  she  was  quite  gay.  She  said  she 
was  not  going  to  repine  and  languish  in  sorrow. 

Her  conduct  shocked  the  staid  Puritans,  and  her 
fine  apparel  was  ungodly  in  their  eyes. 

Weeks  rolled  on,  and  no  news  came  from  the  good 
ship  Silver w ing  ;  but  they  might  not  hear  from  her 
for  months,  and  Mrs.  Stevens  did  not  borrow  trouble. 
She  did  not  dream  that  the  ship  could  possibly  be 
lost,  or  that  her  husband's  voyage  could  be  other 
than  prosperous,  so  she  plunged  into  a  course  of 
107 


108  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

extravagance  and  pleasure  that  would  have  ruined 
a  wealthier  man  than  poor  John  Stevens. 

"I  must  do  something,  "she  declared,  "to  relieve 
my  mind  from  thoughts  of  my  poor,  dear,  absent 
husband,  for  whom  I  grieve  continually." 

Once  John's  mother  and  sister  came  to  see  her; 
but  she  was  entertaining  some  ladies  from  Green- 
springs  and  wholly  neglected  her  visitors.  The 
grandmother  held  the  baby  oh  her  knee,  kissed  the 
face,  while  her  tears  fell  on  it;  then  silently  the 
two  unwelcome  visitors  departed  for  their  home, 
while  Mrs.  Stevens  was  so  busily  engaged  with  the 
ladies  from  Greensprings  that  she  did  not  even  bid 
them  adieu. 

Dark  days  were  in  store  for  Dorothe  Stevens. 
She  heeded  not  the  constant  reduction  of  her  money 
until  it  was  gone.  Then  she  reasoned  that  her  hus 
band  would  soon  return  with  a  goodly  supply,  and 
she  began  to  use  her  credit,  which  had  always  been 
good ;  but  she  found  that  the  merchants  who  once 
had  smiled  on  her  frowned  when  she  came  to  ask 
for  credit. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  your  husband,  Dorothe 
Stevens?"  one  asked,  when  she  applied  to  him  for 
credit. 

"No." 

"He  has  been  a  long  time  gone." 

"Yes;  but  he  will  return." 


/AT  WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  109 

"The  Silvenrinrj  has  not  yet  reached  London." 

"How  know  you  that?"  she  asked,  a  momentary 
shadow  coming  over  her  face. 

"The  Ocean  Star  hath  just  arrived,  but  brought 
no  report  from  the  Silvern- iny." 

"  It  left  before  the  Sih-erwinrj  arrived.  The  ship 
was  delayed  a  little.  It  has  reached  there  safely 
by  this  time,  I  am  quite  sure,"  and  Mrs.  Stevens' 
face  grew  bright  as  she  made  some  purchases  for 
which  she  had  not  the  money  to  pay.  The  mer 
chant  sold  to  her  reluctantly,  and  she,  without 
dreaming  that  calamity  could  possibly  befall  her, 
went  on  enjoying  herself.  Ex-Governor  Berkeley 
had  invited  her  to  spend  a  few  daysatGreenspring, 
where  she  met  her  husband's  friend  Hugh  Price, 

o 

with  other  gay  cavaliers  and  ladies. 

Dorothe  was  a  thorough  royalist,  and  she  heard, 
while  at  the  governor's,  that  Cromwell  was  in  poor 
health,  and  there  was  a  strong  feeling  that  the  ex 
iled  Prince  Charles  would  be  recalled  to  the  throne. 
Berkeley  had  invited  him  to  Virginia.  Many  of 
England's  nobles,  flying  from  Cromwell's  persecu 
tions,  had  taken  refuge  with  ex-Governor  Berke 
ley,  and  no  other  greater  pleasure  could  Dorothe 
wish  than  to  be  associated  with  them. 

When  she  returned  to  her  home,  it  looked  poor 
and  mean  in  comparison  with  the  governor's  ex 
cellent  manor  house;  but  troubles  thickened.  Bills 


110  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

came  pouring  in  upon  her,  which  she  was  unable 
to  meet,  for  she  had  not  a  farthing,  and  her  credi 
tors  became  clamorous. 

"Why  don't  John  come  back  with  the  money?" 
she  asked,  angry  tears  starting  from  her  eyes.  "I 
cannot  meet  these  bills,  and  he  knows  I  must  live." 

"  You  have  been  grossly  extravagant,  Mrs.  Ste 
vens,"  one  heartless  creditor  returned.  He  was  a 
merchant  who  had  smiled  on  her  most  sweetly  in 
her  prosperous  days,  and  had  always  welcomed  her 
to  his  shop.  "Had  you  economized  with  the 
money  your  husband  left,  you  would  not  be  in 
such  sore  straits." 

Mrs.  Stevens  was  shocked  and  indignant.  She 
wept  and  asked  for  time.  Ann  Linkon,  who  had 
never  forgiven  Dorothe  Stevens  for  the  ducking  she 
had  caused  her,  now  boldly  declared  that  she  had 
all  along  told  the  truth  and,  shaking  her  gray  head, 
repeated : 

"  She  is  a  hussy.  She  hath  driven  John  to  sea 
and  perchance  to  death.  She  is  a  hussy." 

No  one  attempted  to  prevent  Ann's  tongue  from 
wagging,  and  to  the  unfortunate  Dorothe  it  was 
quite  evident  that  she  was  no  longer  the  favorite  of 
Jamestown. 

"When  John  comes  back,  all  will  change,"  she 
thought;  but,  alas,  the  months  crept  slowly  by, 
and  John  came  not.  There  came  a  rumor  which 


IN  WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  Ill 

time  confirmed  that  the  Silverwing  was  lost.  Dor- 
othe,  who  was  of  a  hopeful  nature,  would  not  be 
lieve  it  at  first,  though  the  news  had  a  very  disas 
trous  effect  to  her  credit.  She  was  refused  at  every 
shop  and  store  in  Jamestown.  In  her  distress  she 
sold  such  articles  as  she  could  dispense  with;  but, 
Jamestown  was  only  a  frontier  hamlet,  it  had  no 
such  conveniences  as  pawnbrokers  and  second 
hand  clothiers,  and  what  few  articles  she  could  dis 
pose  of  were  sold  mainly  to  freed  or  indented  ser 
vants  at  ruinous  prices. 

Dorothe's  fashionable  friends  deserted  her.  The 
ladies  and  cavaliers  at  Greenspring  became  suddenly 
cold  and  she  remained  at  home.  Her  slaves  were 
taken  away,  so,  finally,  was  the  home,  and,  with 
her  little  children,  she  took  up  her  abode  in  a  mis 
erable  log  cabin,  where  she  became  an  object  of 
charity.  A  year  and  a  half  had  rolled  away;  but 
she  had  not  wholly  given  up  her  husband  for  dead. 
The  vessel  might  have  blown  out  of  its  course,  it 
might  have  been  captured  by  pirates,  or  Spaniards, 
and  her  husband  might  yet  escape. 

She  had  been  so  cool  toward  his  relatives,  that 
they  had  not  seen  her  for  a  year.  She  was  proud 
and  would  have  suffered  death  rather  than  appeal 
to  them  for  aid;  but  her  children — his  children, 
were  suffering,  and,  as  she  had  to  give  up  even 
the  log  cabin  to  rapacious  creditors,  at  last  she 


112  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

appealed  to  his  mother  and  sister,  whom  she  had 
despised. 

"  You  are  welcome.  Come  and  share  our  home," 
was  the  response. 

Almost  heartbroken,  yet  proud,  Dorothe  with 
her  children  set  out  for  the  distant  plantation  in 
the  county  in  which  lived  the  relatives  of  her 
husband. 

Political  changes  were  coming,  which  were  to 
have  a  marked  effect  on  Dorothe,  who  gave  up  her 
husband  for  dead  and  donned  the  widow's  weeds. 
Those  changes  were  the  restoration. 

In  1658,  Cromwell  died  and  named  his  son  Rich 
ard  as  his  successor.  From  the  death  of  Cromwell 
until  the  accession  of  Charles  II. ,  the  government 
of  England  was  in  a  state  of  chaos  and  was  highly 
revolutionary  without  being  in  a  state  of  actual 
anarchy.  There  was  in  reality  no  head  to  the 
government.  Even  the  Puritans  saw  that  the  in 
evitable  must  come,  and,  in  1660,  Charles  II.  was 
restored  to  the  throne  of  England  without  any  se 
rious  jar  to  the  country  or  colonies.  It  was  late 
in  May,  1660,  when  the  wandering  prince,  mounted 
on  a  gayly  caparisoned  steed,  entered  London  be 
tween  his  brothers,  the  Dukes  of  York  and  Glou 
cester,  and  took  up  his  abode  in  the  palace  of 
Whitehall,  while  flags  waved,  bells  rang,  cannons 
roared,  trumpets  brayed,  shouts  rent  the  air  and 


IN  WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  113 

fountains  poured  out  costly  libations  of  wine  as 
tokens  of  public  joy.  After  a  twenty  years1  strug 
gle  between  royalists  and  republicans,  the  monarchy 
was  restored,  and  the  English  people  again  be 
came  subjects  of  the  head  of  the  Scottish  house  of 
Stuarts. 

The  accession  of  Charles  II.  soon  caused  a  change 
in  the  affairs  of  America.     The  new  king  assigned 
to    his    brother     James, 
Duke  of  York,  the  whole 
territory  of   New  Nether- 
land,    with    Long    Island 
and  a  part  of  Connecticut. 
Charles  had  no  more  right 
to  that  domain  than  to  the    // 
central  province  of  Spain; 
but  the  brutal  argument 
that "  might  makes  right " 
justified  the  royal  broth 


ers,  in  their  own  estima- 


OLIVER  CROMWELL. 


tion,  in  sending  ships,  men  and  cannon,  the  "last 
argument  of  kings, "to  take  possession  of  and  hold 
the  territory.  Four  men-of-war,  bearing  four  hun 
dred  and  fifty  soldiers,  commanded  by  Colonel 
Richard  Nicolls,  a  court  favorite,  arrived  before 
New  Amsterdam  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  16G4. 
Governor  Stuyvesant  had  been  warned  of  their  ap 
proach  and  tried  to  strengthen  the  fort;  but  money, 


114  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

men  and  will  were  wanting.  The  governor's  vio 
lent  temper,  with  English  influence,  had  alienated 
the  people,  and  they  were  indifferent.  Some  of 
them  regarded  the  invaders  as  welcome  friends. 
Stuy  vesant  began  to  make  concessions  to  the  popu 
lar  wishes.  It  was  too  late;  and  New  Amsterdam 
became  an  easy  prey  to  the  English  freebooters. 

Early  in  this  year,  revolutionary  movements  had 
taken  place  among  the  English  on  Long  Island, 
which  the  governor  could  not  suppress,  and  the 
province  was  rent  by  internal  discord  for  several 
months.  A  war  with  the  Indians  above  the  Hud 
son  Highlands  had  also  given  the  governor  much 
trouble;  but  his  energy  and  wisdom  had  brought 
it  to  a  close.  The  anthems  of  a  Thanksgiving 
day  had  died  away,  and  the  governor,  assured  of 
peace,  had  gone  to  Fort  Orange  (Albany),  when 
news  reached  him  of  the  coming  English  armament. 
He  hastened  back  to  his  capital,  and,  on  Saturday, 
the  30th  day  of  August,  Nicolls  sent  to  the  governor 
a  formal  summons  to  surrender  the  fort  and  city. 
He  also  sent  a  proclamation  to  the  citizens,  prom 
ising  perfect  security  of  person  and  property  to  all 
who  should  quietly  submit  to  English  rule. 

The  Dutch  governor  hastily  assembled  his  magis 
trates  at  the  fort  to  consider  public  affairs;  but,  to 
his  disgust,  they  favored  submission  without  re 
sistance.  Stuy  vesant,  true  to  his  superiors  and  his 


'-  PETEU  THE   ULAU>TUONG,"   UNABLE   TO  CONTROL  HIS   1-A8S1ON,  T« 
INTO   I'IBCKd. 


IN   WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  115 

own  convictions  of  duty,  would  not  listen  to  such 
a  proposition,  nor  allow  the  inhabitants  to  see  the 
proclamation.  The  Sabbath  passed  without  any 
answer  to  the  summons.  It  was  a  day  of  great 
excitement  and  anxiety  in  Amsterdam,  and  the 
people  became  impatient.  On  Monday  the  magis 
trates  explained  to  them  the  situation  of  affairs, 
and  they  demanded  a  sight  of  the  proclamation. 
It  was  refused,  and  they  were  on  the  verge  of  open 
insurrection,  when  a  new  turn  in  events  took  place. 

Governor  Winthrop  of  Connecticut,  who  was 
quite  friendly  with  Stuyvesant,  had  joined  the 
English  squadron.  Nicolls  sent  him  as  an  em- 
bassador  to  Stuyvesant,  with  a  letter  in  which  was 
repeated  the  demand  for  a  surrender.  The  two 
governors  met  at  the  gate  of  the  fort.  Stuyvesant 
read  the  letter  and  promptly  refused  to  comply. 

"Inform  the  Englishman  if  he  wants  my  fort, 
he  must  come  amid  cannon  and  balls  to  take  it," 
he  said.  Closing  the  gate,  he  retired  to  the  coun 
cil  chamber  and  laid  the  letter  before  his  cabinet 
and  magistrates.  After  examining  it  they  said: 

"  Read  the  letter  to  the  people,  and  so  get  their 
minds." 

The  governor  stoutly  refused.  The  council  and 
magistrates  as  stoutly  insisted  that  he  should  do 
so,  when  the  enraged  governoV,  who  had  fairly 
earned  the  title  of  "Peter  the  Headstrong,"  unable 


116 


A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 


to  control  his  passion,  tore  the  letter  into  pieces. 
The  people  at  work  on  the  palisades,  hearing  of 
this,  hastened  to  the  Statehouse,  where  a  large 
number  of  citizens  were  soon  gathered.  They 
sent  a  deputation  to  the  fort  to  demand  the  letter. 
Stuyvesant,  storming  with  rage,  cried: 

"Back  to  the  ramparts!  mend  the  palisades,  and 
we  will  answer  the  letter  with  cannon." 

The  deputies  were  inflexible,  and  a  fair  copy  of 
the  letter  was  made  from  the  pieces,  taken  to  the 
Statehouse  and  read  to  the  inhabitants.  At  that 
time  the  population  of  New  Amsterdam  did  not 
exceed  fifteen  hundred  souls.  Outside  of  the  lit 
tle  garrison,  there 
were  not  over  two 
hundred  men  capa 
ble  of  bearing  arms, 
and  it  was  the  ut 
most  folly  to  resist. 
Nicolls,  growing 
impatient,  sent  a 
message  to  the  silent  governor 
saying: 

"I  shall  come  for  your  answer 
to-morrow    with    ships    and   sol 
diers,"    and  anchored    two   war- 
vessels  between  the  fort  and    Governor's  Island. 
Stuyvesant' s  proud  will  would  not  bend  to  circum- 


TOMB  OF  STUYVESANT. 


IN  WIDOWS   WEEDS.  117 

stances,  and,  from  the  ramparts  of  the  fort,  he  saw 
their  preparations  for  attack,  without  in  the  least 
relenting,  and  when  men,  women  and  children,  and 
even  his  beloved  son  Baltli.-izzar,  entreated  him  to 
surrender,  that  the  lives  and  property  of  the  citi 
zens  might  be  spared,  he  replied: 

"I  had  much  rather  be  carried  out  dead." 
At  last,  however,  when  the  magistrates,  the 
clergy  and  many  of  the  principal  citizens  entreated 
him,  the  proud  old  governor,  who  had  "a  heart  as 
big  as  an  ox,  and  a  head  that  would  have  set  ada 
mant  to  scorn,"  consented  to  capitulate.  lie  had 
held  out  for  a  week.  On  Monday  morning,  the 
8th  of  September,  1064,  he  led  his  troops  from 
the  fort  to  a  ship  on  which  they  were  to  embark 
for  Holland,  and  an  hour  after,  the  red  cross  of  St. 
George  was  floating  over  Fort  Amsterdam,  the 
name  of  which  was  changed  to  Fort  James  as  a 
compliment  to  the  Duke. 

The  remainder  of  New  Netherlands  soon  passed 
into  the  possession  of  the  English,  and  the  city 
and  province  were  named  New  York,  another  com 
pliment  to  Prince  James,  afterward  James  II. 
Colonel  Nicolls,  whom  the  duke  had  appointed  as 
his  deputy  governor,  was  so  proclaimed  by  the 
magistrates  of  the  city,  and  all  officers  within  the 
domain  of  New  Netherland  were  required  to  take 
an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  British  crown. 


118  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  new  governor  took  up  his  abode  in  the 
Dutch  fort,  if  the  strange  structure  within  the  pal 
isades  could  be  called  a  fort.  It  contained,  besides 
the  governor's  house  and  barracks,  a  steep  gambrel- 
roofed  church  with  a  high  tower,  a  windmill,  gal 
lows,  pillory,  whipping-post,  prison  and  a  tall  flag 
staff.  There  was  generally  a  cheerful  submission 
to  the  conquerors  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants, 
and  after  the  turmoil  of  surrender  a  profound 
quiet  reigned  in  New  York. 

So  passed  into  the  domain  of  perfected  history 
the  Dutch  dominion  in  America  after  an  existence 
of  fifty  years,  by  that  unrighteous  seizure  of  the 
territory  which  had  been  discovered  and  settled  by 
the  Dutch.  England  became  the  mistress  of  all 
the  domain  stretching  along  the  coast  of  the  Atlan 
tic  Ocean  from  Florida  to  Acadie,  and  westward 
across  the  entire  continent;  but  in  New  Nether- 
land,  in  that  brief  space  of  half  a  century,  the 
Dutch  had  stamped  the  impress  of  their  institutions, 
their  social  and  religious  habits,  their  modes  of 
thought  and  peculiarities  of  character,  so  that  they 
remained  unconquered  in  the  loftier  aspect  of  the 
case.  The  characteristics  of  the  Dutch  of  New 
Netherland  were  so  indelibly  stamped,  that,  after 
a  lapse  of  more  than  two  centuries,  they  are  still 
marked  features  of  New  York  society. 

Saucy  New  England  underwent  fewer  changes  by 


IA'   WIDOWS   WEEDS.  119 

reason  of  the  restoration  than  all  the  other  colonies. 
The  New  Englanders  were  men  and  women  of  iron 
who  dared  everything.  They  were  always  cool, 
cautious,  yet  bold,  and  when  they  made  an  effort 
to  gain  a  right,  they  always  won.  They  clung  to 
all  their  rights  and  demanded  more.  The  bigotry 
of  the  Puritans  of  Massachusetts  was  vehemently 
condemned  at  the  time  of  their  iron  rule  and  has 
been  ever  since;  but  their  theology  and  their 
ideas  of  church  government  were  founded  upon  the 
deepest  heart-convictions  of  a  people  not  broadly 
educated.  Having  encountered  and  subdued  a 
savage  wilderness  for  the  purpose  of  planting  there 
in  a  church  and  a  commonwealth,  fashioned  in  all 
their  parts  after  a  narrow  but  cherished  pattern, 
they  felt  that  the  domain  thus  conquered  was  all 
their  own,  and  that  they  had  the  right  to  regulate 
the  internal  affairs  according  to  their  own  notion  of 
things.  They  boldly  proclaimed  the  right  to  the 
exercise  of  private  judgment  in  matters  of  con 
science,  and  so  tacitly  invited  the  persecuted  of  all 
lands  to  immigrate  and  settle  among  them.  This 
invitation  brought  "unsettled  persons,"  libertines 
in  unrestrained  opinions,  from  abroad  to  dis 
seminate  their  peculiar  views.  The  Puritans, 
fearing  the  disorganization  of  their  church,  early 
took  alarm  and,  with  a  mistaken  policy,  resisted 
such  encroachments  upon  the  domain  and  into 


120  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

their  society  with  fiery  penal  laws  implacably 
executed. 

Among  the  sects  of  the  time  dangerous  to  Puri 
tanism,  were  the  Quakers  or  Friends.  The  first 
of  the  sect  who  appeared  conspicuously  in  New 
England  were  Mary  Fisher  and  Anna  Austin,  who 
arrived  at  Boston  in  the  summer  of  1656,  when 
John  Endicott  was  governor.  There  was  no  spe 
cial  law  against  them;  but  under  a  general  act 
against  heretics,  they  were  arrested;  their  persons 
were  searched  to  find  marks  of  witchcraft,  with 
which  they  were  suspected;  their  trunks  were 
searched,  and  their  books  were  burned  publicly  by 
the  hangman.  After  several  weeks  of  confinement 
in  prison,  they  were  sent  back  to  England.  Mary 
Fisher,  a  violent  religious  enthusiast,  afterward 
visited  the  Sultan  of  Turkey  and,  being  mistaken 
•for  a  crazy  woman,  was  permitted  to  go  every 
where  unmolested. 

The  harsh  treatments  of  the  first  comers  fired  the 
zeal  of  the  more  enthusiastic  of  the  sect  in  England, 
who  sought  martyrdom  as  an  honor  and  a  passport 
to  the  home  of  the  righteous.  They  flocked  to 
New  England  and  fearfully  vexed  the  souls  of  the 
Puritan  magistrates  and  ministers.  One  woman 
came  from  London  to  warn  the  authorities  against 
persecutions.  Others  came  to  revile,  denounce  and 
defy  the  powers  of  the  church.  From  the  win- 


IN  WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  m 

dows  of  their  houses  they  would  rail  at  the  magis 
trates,  and  mock  the  institutions  of  the  country, 
while  some  fanatical  young  women  appeared  nude 
on  the  streets  and  in  the  churches,  as  emblems  of 
"unclothed  souls  of  the  people."  Others  with 
loud  voices  proclaimed  that  the  wrath  of  the  Al 
mighty  was  about  to  fall  like  destructive  lightning 
on  Boston  and  Salem.  The  Quakers  of  1659  were 
quite  different  from  that  honorable  body  of  people 
of  the  present  age. 

Horrified  by  their  blasphemies  and  indecencies, 
the  authorities  of  Massachusetts  passed  some  cruel 
laws.  At  first  they  forbade  all  persons  "  harboring 
Quakers,"  imposing  severe  penalties  for  each  of 
fence,  then  followed  mild  punishment  on  the 
Friends  themselves.  These  proving  ineffectual, 
.the  Puritans  passed  laws  which  authorized  the 
cropping  of  the  ears,  boring  the  tongues  with 
hot  irons,  and  hanging  on  the  gibbet  offending 
Quakers. 

Even  these  terrible  laws  could  not  keep. them 
away.  On  a  bright  October  day  in  1659,  two 
young  men  named  William  Robinson  and  Marma- 
duke  Stevenson,  with  Mary  Dyer,  wife  of  the  Sec 
retary  of  State  of  Rhode  Island,  were  led  from  the 
Boston  jail,  with  ropes  around  their  necks  and 
guarded  by  soldiers,  to  be  hanged  on  Boston  Com 
mon.  Mary  walked  between  her  companions  hand 


122  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

in  hand  to  the  gallows,  where,  in  the  presence 
of  Governor  Endicott,  the  two  young  men  were 
hung.  Mary  was  unmoved  by  the  spectacle.  She 
was  given  into  the  care  of  her  son,  who  came  from 
Rhode  Island  to  plead  for  her  life,  and  went  away 
with  him;  but  the  next  spring  this  foolish  woman 
returned  and  began  preaching  and  was  herself  hung 
on  Boston  Common. 

The  severity  of  these  laws  caused  a  revulsion  of 
public  sentiment.  The  Quakers  stoutly  maintained 
their  course,  and  were  regarded  by  the  more 
thoughtful  as  real  martyrs  for  conscience'  sake,  and, 
in  1661,  the  severe  laws  against  them  were  re 
pealed.  Puritanism,  which  had  flourished  under 
republicanism  in  England,  with  the  restoration  of 
the  Stuarts  was  threatened,  and  doubtless  fear  of 
the  vengeance  of  the  church  party  caused  the  New 
Englanders  to  temper  their  laws. 

A  restless  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  New  England 
ers  with  an  uneasy  feeling  in  regard  to  the  result  of 
the  restoration  caused  many  to  emigrate  to  Caro- 
linia,  which  was  a  mysterious,  far-away  land  where 
everybody  lived  at  peace.  Removed  from  the  grasp 
of  kings  and  tyrants,  many  went  to  the  infant  town 
planted  on  Old-town  Creek,  near  tjie  south  side  of 
Cape  Fear  River.  However,  the  Carolinias  were 
growing  from  fugitive  settlements  into  common 
wealths,  and,  in  1666,  William  Drummond,  the 


IN  WIDOW'S   WEEDS.  123 

friend  of  John  Stevens,  was  appointed  governor  of 
North  Carolinia. 

Claybourne,  who,  after  a  struggle  of  twenty 
years,  had  succeeded  in  conquering  Maryland,  saw, 
with  the  decline  of  the  commonwealth  of  England, 
his  own  hopes  go  down.  In  1658,  the  Catholics 
of  St.  Mary's  and  the  Puritans  of  St.  Leonard's 
consulted,  and  the  province  was  surrendered  to 
Lord  Baltimore.  Claybourne  had  no  sooner  gained 
that  for  which  he  had  battled,  than  his  power  be 
gan  to  crumble  beneath  his  feet,  and  he  was  even 
ejected  from  the  Virginia  council. 

The  restoration  of  1660  produced  a  most  won 
derful  effect  on  Virginia.  All  was  changed  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  so  to  speak.  The  cavaliers, 
who  had  been  sulking  for  years  under  the  mild 
rule  of  the  commonwealth,  threw  up  their  hats  and 
cheered  from  Flower  de  Hundred  to  the  capes  on 
the  ocean,  as  only  a  victorious  political  party  can 
cheer. 

The  sentiment  of  the  Virginians  in  favor  of  roy 
alty  was  strong  and  abiding;  with  the  restoration  of 
monarchy  they  had  achieved  the  main  point.  The 
representatives  in  the  colony  of  the  psalm-singing 
fanatics  of  England  would  have  to  go  now.  Silk 
and  lace  and  curling  wigs  would  be  once  more  m 
fashion,  the  hated  close-cropped  wretches  in  black 
coats  and  round  hats  would  fade  into  the  back- 


124  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

ground,  and  the  good  old  cavaliers,  like  the  king, 
would  have  their  own  once  more. 

The  king's  men  became  prominent,  and  their 
plantations  resounded  with  revelry.  It  was  thought 
that  Charles  II.  would  grant  special  favors  to  Vir 
ginia,  as  Berkeley  had  invited  him  to  be  their  king 
even  before  he  was  restored  to  the  throne  of  Eng 
land.  The  country  is  said  to  have  derived  the 
name  of  the  "  Old  Dominion  "  from  the  fact  that 
the  Charles  might  have  been  king  of  Virginia  be 
fore  he  was  king  of  England. 

In  March,  1600,  the  planters  assembled  at  James 
town  and  enacted:  "Whereas,  by  reason  of  the 
late  distractions  (which  God,  in  his  mercy,  put  a 
suddaine  period  to),  there  being  in  England  noe 
resident  absolute  and  ge'll  confessed  power,  be  it 
enacted  and  confirmed:  that  the  supreme  power 
of  the  government  of  this  country  shall  be  resident 
in  the  assembly,  and  that  all  writts  issue  in  the 
name  of  the  grand  assembly  of  Virginia  until  such 
command  or  commission  come  out  of  England  as 
shall  by  the  assembly  be  adjudged  lawful."  The 
same  session  declared  Sir  William  Berkeley  gov 
ernor  and  captain -general  of  Virginia.  In  October 
of  the  same  year  of  the  restoration,  Sir  William 
Berkeley  was  commissioned  governor  of  Virginia 
by  Charles  II. 

No  one  in  all  the  colony  rejoiced  more  at  the 


IN  WIDOW'S    WEEDS.  125 

restoration  of  monarchy  than  did  Dorothe  Stevens. 
Her  fortunes  had  mended.  Her  husband's  brother 
was  appointed  governor  of  Carolinia,  and,  while  he 
was  acting  in  the  capacity  of  governor,  he  managed 
to  secure  the  fortune  his  grandfather  had  left  in  St. 
Augustine.  It  was  large,  and  fully  twenty  thou 
sand  pounds  fell  to  the  heirs  of  John  Stevens, 
which  was  a  godsend  to  the  widow,  who  purchased 
a  fine  house  in  Jamestown  and  once  more  entered 
the  society  of  the  cavaliers  and  church  people. 

For  twelve  years  she  had  been  a  widow,  and  now 
that  she  was  wealthy  and  the  charm  of  cavalier  so 
ciety,  she  began  to  entertain  some  serious  thoughts 
of  doffing  her  widow's  weeds. 

"It's  all  because  of  that  cavalier  Hugh  Price," 
said  Ann  Linkon  spitefully.  "The  hateful  thing 
will  wed  him,  because  he  is  rich  and  the  king  is 
restored." 

The  widow  left  off  her  weeds  and,  in  silk  and 
lace,  with  ruffles  and  frills,  became  the  gayest  of 
the  gay.  The  flush  came  to  her  pale  cheek,  and 
people  said  she  smiled  on  Hugh  Price.  It  is  quite 
certain  that  Hugh  Price,  after  the  restoration,  was 
known  to  be  frequently  in  the  society  of  his  lost 
friend's  wife. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE     STEPFATHER. 

Mother,  for  the  love  of  grace 
Lay  not  that  flattering  unction  to  your  soul, 
That  not  your  trespass  but  my  madness  speaks. 
It  will  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place ; 
While  rank  corruption,  winning  all  within, 
Infects  unseen — 

— SHAKESPEARE. 

WITH  the  return  of  prosperity  Mrs.  Stevens  de 
serted  and  forgot  her  husband's  relatives  notwith 
standing  their  kindness  to  her  in  adversity.  Mrs. 
Stevens  possessed  a  ruinous  pride  and  vanity  com 
bined  with  a  haughty  spirit  and  small  gratitude. 
She  was  wealthy,  again  the  cavaliers  were  in  power, 
and  she  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  She  was  still 
youthful  and  beautiful  and  out  of  widow's  weeds. 

"Hugh  Price  will  surely  wed  her,"  said  Sarah 
Drurnmond. 

No  sooner  was  Governor  Berkeley  inaugurated, 

after  receiving  his  commission  from  Charles  II., 

than  he  gave  a  grand  reception  at  which  there  was 

music  and  dancing.      The  young  widow  was  there 

126 


THE  STEPFATHER.  137 

in  silk,  lace  and  ruffles,  her  black  eyes  sparkling 
with  pleasure.  Hugh  Price,  a  great  favorite  of 
the  governor,  was  one  of  the  most  dashing  gentlemen 
in  Virginia  at  the  time.  He  was  a  handsome  fellow 
with  hair  bordering  on  redness  and  eyes  a  dark 
brown.  His  mustache  was  between  golden  and  red, 
and  he  possessed  an  excellent  form. 

He  was  seen  much  in  the  society  of  the  widow 
Stevens,  and  some  of  his  friends  began  to  chaff  him 
on  his  attentions,  which  made  the  cavalier  blush. 

"Verily,  Hugh  is  a  good  cavalier,  Dorothe  is  a 
royalist  and  was  never  happy  with  John  Stevens; 
it  is  better  that  she  wed  him." 

Eobert  Stevens  was  twelve  or  fourteen,  when 
his  mother,  laying  aside  her  widow's  weeds,  be 
came  young  again.  Robert  remembered  his  father 
and  their  days  of  privation,  and  he  did  not  forget 
that  all  they  had,  they  owed  to  that  father.  He 
witnessed  his  mother's  smiles  and  blushes  with 
some  anxiety.  One  day,  as  he  was  going  an  er 
rand  to  Neck  of  Land,  he  was  accosted  by  a  med 
dlesome  fellow  named  William  Stump,  with: 

"Master  Robert,  do  you  know  you  are  soon  to 
have  a  father-in-law?''  (Stepfather  was  in  those 
days  known  as  father-in-law.) 

"No!"  cried  the  boy,  indignantly. 

"By  the  mass!  you  are.  Don't  you  observe 
how  Hugh  Price  is  continually  with  your  mother?" 


128  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Robert's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  lie  cried: 

"I  will  kill  him!" 

"William  Stump,  laughing  at  the  misery  he  had 
occasioned,  answered: 

"Marry!  lad,  you  can  do  naught.  Better  win 
the  favor  of  Hugh,  for  he  can  be  a  cruel  master." 

Robert  went  on  his  errand,  hating  both  Hugh 
Price  and  William  Stump,  and  he  determined  to 
appeal  to  his  mother  to  have  no  more  to  do  with 
Hugh  Price. 

Robert  had  been  sent  on  the  errand  by  the 
mother,  that  he  might  be  away  when  Hugh  Price 
came.  She  had  an  intuition,  as  women  sometimes 
do,  that  the  supreme  moment  had  arrived  in  which 
Hugh  would  "speak  his  mind."  The  widow 
looked  very  pretty  in  her  lace  and  silk  and  frilled 
cap,  from  which  the  raven  tresses  peeped.  She 
had  also  managed  to  dispose  of  little  Rebecca,  so 
the  coast  was  clear  when  Mr.  Price,  on  his  gayly 
caparisoned  steed,  arrived.  To  one  not  acquainted 
with  the  state  of  Hugh  Price's  mind,  his  appear 
ance  and  behavior  on  the  occasion  of  his  ride  from 
Greensprings  to  Jamestown  would  have  been  mys 
terious  and  unaccountable. 

Dismounting  at  the  stiles  he  gave  the  rein  to  a 
gayly  dressed  negro,  who  led  the  animal  into  the 
barn  while  the  negro  girl  showed  him  to  the  parlor, 
which  was  furnished  gorgeously.  The  harp  which 


THE  STEPFATHER.  129 

the  widow  played  was  in  the  corner  with  her  Span 
ish  guitar.  The  room  was  unoccupied  when  Hugh 
entered.  He  paced  to  and  fro  with  nervous  tread, 
popped  his  head  out  of  the  window  at  intervals  of 
three  or  four  minutes  and  glanced  at  the  hourglass 
on  the  mantel,  manifesting  an  impatience  unusual 
in  him. 

It  was  quite  evident  that  some  subject  of  great 
importance  occupied  his  mind.  At  last  Mrs.  Ste 
vens  entered,  quite  flustered,  almost  out  of  breath 
and  her  cheeks  crimson  with  youth  and  beauty. 
Wheeling  about  from  the  window  through  which 
he  had  been  nervously  gazing,  he  accosted  her  with: 

"Mrs.  Stevens,  I  have  chosen  this  opportune 
moment — 

Here  he  choked.  Something  seemed  to  rise  in 
his  throat  and  cut  off  his  speech.  Dorothe  glanced 
at  him,  her  great  dark  eyes  wide  open  in  real  or 
affected  wonder  and  asked: 

"Well,  Mr.  Price,  for  what  have  you  chosen  this 
moment?" 

"It  is,  madame,  to  tell  you — ahem,  this  day  is 
very  hot." 

"So  it  is,"  Dorothe  answered,  her  dark  eyes 
beaming  tenderly  on  him.  "  Won't  you  sit?  Your 
long  ride  has  fatigued  vou." 

O  \-J  *J 

"Indeed  it  has,"  answered  Hugh,  accepting  the 
proffered  seat.      The  fine  speech  which  Hugh  had 
9 


130  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

been  studying  all  the  way  to  Jamestown  had  quite 
vanished  from  his  mind;  but  the  widow  was  in 
clined  to  help  him  on  with  his  wooing.  After  three 
or  four  more  efforts  to  clear  his  throat,  he  began: 

"  Mrs.  Stevens,  I  came — ahem — all  the  way  here 
to  ask  you — to  get  your  opinion — that  is  to 

gay " 

Here  he  stopped  again.  The  words  in  his  throat 
had  become  clogged,  and  Hugh's  face  was  purple, 
while  great  drops  of  sweat  stood  out  in  beads  on  his 
forehead. 

Dorothe,  free  from  the  embarrassment  which  tor 
tured  him,  waited  a  respectable  length  of  time  for 
him  to  clear  away  that  annoying  obstruction  in  his 
throat,  and  then  to  help  him  along,  began: 

"  Why,  Mr.  Price,  you  have  always  been  one  of 
my  best  friends,  and  I  assure  you  that  any  sugges 
tion  or  information  I  can  give  you,  will  be  freely 
given,"  and  here  the  widow  blushed  to  the  border 
of  her  cap,  and  touched  her  mouth  with  the  corner 
of  her  apron. 

Price,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  gathered 
courage  enough  to  begin  again: 

"  I  have  come  to  remark,  Mrs.  Stevens,  that 
— ahem — that — do  you  think  the  restoration  of 
monarchy  is  permanent?" 

"Oh,  I  hope  so,"  replied  the  widow  very  ear 
nestly  and  softly,  with  a  glance  at  the  cavalier. 


THE  STEPFATHER.  131 

"Under  the  restoration,  do  you — ahem — think 
it  is  a  much  greater  expense  to  keep  two  people 
than  to  keep  one?"  He  was  getting  at  it  at  last. 

"Oh,  dear  me,  Mr.  Price!"  said  Mrs.  Stevens, 
coloring  again,  for  she  fancied  she  saw  in  the  near 
future  a  proposal  coming.  "Oh,  what  a  question!" 

The  cavalier,  having  gotten  fairly  started,  now 
came  boldly  to  the  charge.  He  had  asked  a  ques 
tion  and  demanded  an  answer.  She  thought  it 
did  not  make  the  expense  very  much  greater  if  the 
people  were  economical  and  careful,  and  then  the 
pleasure  of  being  in  the  society  of  some  one  was 
certainly  very  great. 

That  was  just  what  Mr.  Price  had  all  along  been 
thinking,  and  then,  with  his  great  manly  heart  all 
bursting  with  human  kindness,  he  said: 

"You  must  be  very  lonely,  Mrs.  Stevens." 

"Lonely,  oh,  so  lonely!"  and  the  white  apron 
was  changed  from  the  corner  of  the  mouth  to  the 
corner  of  the  eyes. 

"I  have  thought  so  often  of  you  living  here 
alone  with  those  children,  who  need  a  father's 
care." 

By  this  time  the  widow  was  whimpering.  He 
grew  bolder  and,  falling  on  his  knees,  began  an 
impassioned  avowal  of  love.  The  widow,  startled 
by  the  earnestness  of  her  lover,  rose  to  her  feet  in 
dismay. 


132  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

At  this  juncture  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
the  boy  Robert  entered  to  take  a  part  in  the  scene. 
He  carried  a  stout  staff  and,  raising  it  with  both 
hands,  brought  it  down  with  a  resounding  whack 
on  the  shoulders  of  his  mother's  suitor. 

Then  a  scene  followed.  Robert  was  ejected  from 
the  room  and  the  mother  made  it  all  right  with  the 
injured  party.  A  few  days  later  it  was  currently 
reported  that  the  widow  Stevens  was  to  wed  Hugh 
Price  the  handsome  cavalier.  Mr.  Stevens,  the 
brother  of  her  former  husband,  was  shocked  at  the 
announcement  and,  in  conversation  with  his  wife, 
said: 

"  She  who  has  always  been  an  enemy  to  second 
marriages  is  now  to  bring  a  father-in-law  over  her 
children  to  the  house." 

"Poor  children  when  Hugh  Price  becomes  their 
master,  as  he  will." 

"  I  believe  it  is  my  duty  to  expostulate  with  her." 

"Nay,  nay,  husband,  it  will  be  of  no  avail. 
You  will  have  your  trouble  for  your  pains." 

On  a  second  thought,  he  was  convinced  that  it 
would  be  folly  to  interpose. 

"It  will  be  better  to  let  her  have  her  way,"  he 
concluded.  "Marry!  she  hath  never  sought  ad 
vice  or  shelter  save  when  her  trouble  overwhelmed 
her.  In  prosperity  we  are  strangers,  in  adversity 
friends.  Alas,  poor  children!" 


THE  STEPFATHER. 


133 


The  cavalier  Price  was  seen  frequently  on  the 
streets  of  Jamestown,  and  his  friends  noticed  that 
lie  spent  much  of  his  time  with  the  widow.  He 
was  smiling.  Ilis  fat  face  and  dark  brown  eyes 


THE  DOOR  WAS  THROWN  OPEN  AND  THE  BOY  ROBERT  ENTERED 

TO  TAKE  A  PART  IN  THE  SCENE. 

seemed  to  glow  with  happiness.  He  never  looked 
ugly,  save  when  he  encountered  Eobert's  scowling 
fa°ce,  and  then  he  felt  unpleasant  sensations  about 
the  shoulders. 

Grinding  his  teeth  in  rage,  he  said: 


134  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"I  will  have  ray  revenge  on  him  when  he  is 
under  my  control." 

Hugh  Price  was  not  in  a  great  hurry.  He  bided 
his  time,  and  not  even  a  frown  ruffled  his  brow. 
He  greeted  the  children  with  sunny  smiles  calcu 
lated  to  win  their  hearts,  and  under  ordinary  cir 
cumstances  they  might  have  done  so.  But  from 
the  first  he  was  regarded  with  aversion,  as  an  in 
truder  upon  their  sanctuary  and  love.  The  dislike 
was  mutual,  for,  though  Price  concealed  his  feel 
ings,  there  rankled  in  his  breast  an  enmity  which 
he  could  not  smother. 

Robert  was  open  in  his  resentment.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  opposed  his  mother.  Even 
when  younger,  in  their  trouble  and  sore  distress, 
he  was  her  counsellor.  He  had  not  complained 
when  the  heaviest  burdens  were  laid  on  his  young 
shoulders.  He  had  done  the  work  of  a  man  long 
before  he  was  even  a  stout  lad.  Privation  and 
hardship  were  borne  without  complaint.  He  re 
joiced  on  his  mother's  account  when  their  fortunes 
so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  changed.  Toil  was 
over.  Rest  came  and  with  it  the  improvement  he 
desired. 

It  was  hoped  by  her  best  friends  that  the  bitter 
lesson  which  Dorothe  had  learned  would  prove 
effective,  but  it  did  not.  Women  of  her  disposi 
tion  never  learn  by  experience,  and  she  plunged 


THE  STEPFATHER.  135 

once  more  into  extravagance  and  folly.  The  boy 
was  old  enough  to  realize  his  mother's  weakness, 
yet  his  great  love  for  her  placed  her  above  censure. 
He  was  silent  and  would  have  borne  a  second  mis 
fortune  like  the  first  uncomplaining;  but  when  he 
learned  that  she  was  to  bring  one  to  take  the  place 
of  that  father  who  slept  beneath  the  sea,  he  rebelled. 

Dorothe  knew  the  disposition  of  her  children, 
and  she  decided  to  get  them  out  of  the  way  until 
after  the  wedding.  At  last  she  hit  upon  a  plan. 
Once  more  in  her  need  she  had  recourse  to  the  rela 
tives  of  her  husband.  Her  husband's  sister  had 
married  Richard  Griffin,  a  planter,  and  lived  at 
Flower  de  Hundred.  The  children  had  always 
loved  their  paternal  relatives,  and,  though  they 
had  not  been  permitted  to  visit  them  since  the  res 
toration,  they  had  by  no  means  forgotten  them. 
They  hailed  with  joy  the  announcement  that  they 
were  to  go  to  Flower  de  Hundred. 

One  morning  in  early  June  three  horses  were 
saddled,  and  Robert  and  Rebecca,  accompanied  by 
a  trusty  negro  named  Sam,  started  on  their  jour 
ney.  Most  of  the  travel,  especially  to  a  country 
as  far  away  as  Flower  de  Hundred,  was  on  horse 
back. 

"I  am  so  glad  we  are  going,"  said  Rebecca,  as 
they  galloped  along  the  road  through  the  woods. 
" Mother  was  good  to  let  us  go." 


136  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"I  am  s'prised  at  the  missus,"  the  negro  said, 
shaking  his  head.  "Sumfinam  gwine  to  happen 
now  fur  sure,  sumfin  am  gwine  to  happen." 

"Why?"  asked  Robert. 

"  Misse  neber  gwine  to  dem  people  less  dar  be 
sumfin  for  a-gwine  ter  happen." 

Little  Rebecca  cast  furtive  glances  about  in  the 
dark  old  wood  through  which  they  were  riding  and 
with  a  shudder  asked : 

"Is  there  any  danger  of  Indians?" 

So  often  had  the  savages  drenched  the  earth  with 
blood,  that  the  child  had  a  dread  of  them. 

"  Dun  know,  Misse  Rebecca.  Sam  gwine  ter  fight 
if  Indians  come." 

"But  they  must  not  come." 

"No  Injun  hurt  Misse.     Sam  not  let  um." 

Robert,  young  as  he  was,  had  little  faith  in  the 
negro's  boasts  as  a  protector,  for  he  knew  that  Sam 
was  a  coward  and  would  fly  at  the  first  intimation 
of  danger.  The  journey  was  made  without  inci 
dent.  It  was  a  journey  through  a  country  roman 
tic  and  picturesque  to  the  youthful  Robert.  The 
grand  old  forest,  with  its  untrodden  paths,  the  tall 
trees,  the  dead  monarchs  of  the  forest,  with  branches 
white  and  bare  spread  like  ghost's  fingers  in  the 
air,  filled  his  imagination  with  picturesque  visions. 
Next  they  journeyed  through  a  strip  of  low  lands 
covered  with  tall,  coarse  grass,  which  came  almost 


THE  STEPFATHER.  137 

to  the  backs  of  the  horses.  Then  they  swam  streams 
in  which  the  negro  held  the  girl  on  her  horse.  At 
night  Flower  de  Hundred  was  reached,  and  the  chil 
dren  were  with  their  aunt. 

Sam  left  them  to  return  to  Jamestown  with  the 
horses.  As  he  went  away,  he  took  Robert  aside 
ard,  with  a  strange  look  on  his  ebony  face,  said: 

"Spect  sumfin  bad  am  gwinc  ter  happen,  Masse 
Robert.  She  neber  sent  ye  heah  but  for  bad  luck 
ter  come.  Look  out  for  it  now,  lem  me  told  ye; 
look  out  foh  it  now." 

Robert  knew  that  all  negroes  were  superstitious, 
and  Sam's  strange  warning  made  very  little  impres 
sion  on  him.  He  and  his  sister  were  happy  with 
their  relatives  who  were  kind  to  them. 

Occasionally  the  uncle  and  the  aunt  were  found 
talking  in  subdued  tones  with  eyes  fixed  on  Rob 
ert  and  Rebecca;  but  he  did  not  think  it  could 
have  any  relation  to  them. 

The  days  were  spent  in  frolicsome  glee  among 
the  old  Virginia  woods,  and  the  nights  in  health 
ful  repose.  Robert  felt  at  times  a  vague,  strange 
uneasiness.  It  seemed  so  odd  that  his  mother 
should  send  them  away,  and  that  so  many  days 
should  elapse  without  hearing  from  her.  It  was 
not  at  all  like  her;  but  he  was  so  free  and  so  happy 
in  his  new  existence,  that  he  did  not  allow  it  to 
trouble  him. 


138  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

One  day  a  wandering  hunter  from  Jamestown 
came  by  the  house  where  Robert  was  playing  with 
his  cousins  and  called  to  him: 

"Ho!  master  Robert,  I  have  news  for  you,"  he 
called  to  the  lad. 

"William  Stump,  when  did  you  come?"  he 
asked. 

"But  this  day,"  was  the  answer. 

"Where  are  you  from?" 

"Jamestown,  and.  by  the  mass!  my  young  gay 
cavalier,  I  have  news  for  you.  Marry!  have  you 
not  heard  it  already?" 

"I  have  heard  nothing." 

"Your  mother  hath  married,"  cried  Stump  with 
a  fiendish  chuckle. 

"It  is  false!"  cried  Robert. 

"By  the  mass!  it  is  true,  my  young  cavalier," 
and  Stump  laughed  at  the  expression  of  misery 
which  came  over  the  young  face.  "It  was  a  gay 
notion  to  send  you  brats  away  until  the  ceremony 
was  over.  You  might  make  trouble,  you  know. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  You  laid  your  stick  about  the 
shoulders  of  Mr.  Hugh  Price,  now  he  will  return 
blow  for  blow,"  and,  with  another  chuckle,  Stump 
sauntered  away,  his  gun  on  his  shoulder. 

On  going  to  the  house  Robert  had  the  report 
confirmed.  Some  one  from  Jamestown  had  brought 
news  of  the  wedding,  and  his  little  sister,  with  her 


THE  STEPFATHER.  139 

great  dark  eyes  filled  with  tears,  took  him  aside 
and  said: 

"Brother,  mother  is  married;  what  does  it 
mean?" 

She  clung  to  him,  placed  her  curly  head  on  his 
bosom  and  wept.  Eobert  restrained  his  own  tears 
and  sought  to  soothe  his  sister. 

"  Will  that  man  Hugh  Price  come  to  live  at  our 
house?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"But  I  can  never  love  him.  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  love  any  but  you  and  mother.  I  don't  re 
member  my  own  father;  but  you  do,  Eobert?" 

"Yes." 

"Was  he  like  Mr.  Price?" 

"  No.  He  was  a  grand,  noble  man,  with  a  kind 
heart." 

"  Will  he  let  us  live  at  home,  now  that  he  has 
come?"  she  asked. 

Robert,  though  his  own  heart  was  heavy,  and  he 
felt  gloomy  and  sad,  strove  to  look  on  the  bright 
side. 

"Yes,  he  cannot  drive  us  from  home,"  he 
said. 

"But  mother  will  love  us  no  longer." 

"  She  will,  sister.  No  man  can  rob  us  of  mother's 
love." 

Then  they  went  apart  to  discuss  their  sorrow 


'  «sffljr. 


;«*•  t 

rfut  -Kuan?..  tiheir  wriitfcnttet.  FJMJCUI  ;t  *«tctdi.  fitc 
uililliiwi  \v«m  gnuiiC  iiL  tfitf-  >tliiinmer 
.-unm- 


ft*  vnnniitRtutJi.       SUitecR    mmi{nLi>tBw£   t&sfi 
(iuiuer 


unicrvr  t 

biRii.     8&t  **ftii»Hil  liiinMitiE  tu> 
ti'uifc  iiiif  titdliar  wuf  -swuwiniitfr  IIIIIL  8xiHLa»iC 
maiL  wiita»-  li«r  IluuB 

\WifcHWtii3IUr  ft*  -WflW.f  ii 

il«  !imC  liuit  am  in*  *ll«nMtm».  w-Uiei.  ti 
«itHui  tnmiL  ww  «m»i 


t« 


..  lilt-  *wnfi*t.     '101*  afiiiifi  was  «»fflfiiiiiif 
iueul  at  Sinn,,  wiiilit  *  oMlifi  «we*c  ftrnfet  «TOC 
Inn-  tiwiif  . 

imimiiur  tfttt  tiMJCsi-^ttw*  wiiii  !btt£  Itmiudic 
aJiililmn  fu  Bni»\w«r>&*  ffiiuuiimt  >cmiHr  tiar  dutjm. 

w^  ittHtttt.,  Il«  Miwit;: 
C  vdui  rulif  wo:,.  3Htt»IEiii*ejr;^{ai!  ^ii 


TffK  STEPFATff&R.  Hi 

flat  fellah  wat  ye.  walloped  wid  de  stick.      Hi!  hut 
f  wish  ye  kill  uiri."' 

The,  long  journey  to. fa mestown  was  made.  They 
left  at  sunrise  one  mommy  ami  rode  until  noon, 
when  they  halted  in  the  wilderness  to  allow  the 
horses  an  hour  to  rest,  and  gra/e,  while  they  lay  on 
a  V)lanket  spread  on  the  grass  under  a  tree.  Robert 
and  his  sister  fell  asleep,  ami  the  neo-ro  was  nod 
ding,  when  a  snake  eaine  p'lidino-  through  the  «r ass 
toward  the.  sleeping  r-hildren.  l^am  awoke  in  a 
moment  and,  sei/in</  a  sti'>vit  stiek,  struck  the.  snakft 
and  killed  it  hel'ore.  it  eonld  rear:h  the  children. 
They  were  awakened  !  y  the.  blow  and,  trembling 
at  their  narrow  escape,  once  more  set  out  for  James 
town. 

Though  they  put  their  horses  to  their  best  all 
the  afternoon,  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  west 
ern  hill*  and  forests  as  they  e.ame  in  sight  of  the, 
settlement.  Twilight's  sombre  mantle  \va.s  falling 
over  the  earth  when  they  arrived  at  the  door  of 
their  home  and  were  assisted  by  the  servants  to 
alight. 

Robert  and  Iris  sister  were  so  sore  and  tired  they 
scarcely  could  stand.  A  candelabra  had  been 
lighted  in  the  house,  and  the  soft  rays  came  through 
the  open  casement:  but  the  house  was  strangely 
silent.  No  mother  came  to  welcome  them  home 
with  a  kiss,  and  a  chill  of  death  fell  upon  thoae 


142  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

young  hearts.  Eobert  dared  not  ask  where  she 
was  and  why  she  was  not  at  the  stiles;  but  Be- 
becca  was  younger,  more  inexperienced  and  impul 
sive. 

"Where  is  mother,  Dinah?"  she  asked  her 
mother's  housekeeper. 

"In  de  house,  chile,  waitin'  for  you,"  she  an 
swered. 

Poor,  tired,  heart-broken  little  Rebecca  forgot 
all  save  that  she  was  her  mother,  and  she  ran  upon 
the  piazza  and  burst  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Hugh 
Price  and  her  mother  were. 

"Come  here,  my  darling,"  said  Mrs.  Price,  kiss 
ing  her  daughter.  "This  man  is  your  father  now, 
and  he  will  be  very  good  to  you." 

It  was  like  a  dash  of  cold  water  on  the  warm  lit 
tle  heart,  and,  starting  back,  she  glanced  at  him 
from  the  corners  of  her  pretty  black  eyes  and 
answered : 

"I  cannot  call  him  father." 

"You  will  learn  to,  my  dear,"  Price  answered 
with  a  smile. 

"Come,  Robert,  come  and  greet  your  new 
father,"  said  the  mother. 

Robert  remained  stubbornly  at  the  door  and, 
with  a  dangerous  fire  flashing  in  his  eyes,  answered: 

"Call  him  not  my  father;  he  is  no  father  of 
mine!" 


THE  STEPFATHER.  143 

"You  will  learn  to  like  me,  children,"  answered 
Mr.  Price,  with  an  effort  to  be  pleasant;  but  it 
needed  no  prophet  to  see  that  there  was  trouble  in 
the  near  future. 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

THE   MOVING  WORLD. 

If  we  could  look  down  the  long  vista  of  ages, 

And  witness  the  changes  of  time, 
Or  draw  from  Isaiah's  mysterious  pages 

A  key  to  this  vision  sublime  ; 
We'd  gaze  on  the  picture  with  pride  and  delight, 

And  all  its  magnificence  trace, 
Give  honor  to  man  for  his  genius  and  might, 

And  glory  to  God  for  his  grace. 

— PAXTON. 

AFTER  the  surrender  of  New  York  to  the  Eng 
lish,  in  the  year  1665  Peter  Stuyvesant  went  to 
Holland  to  report  to  his  superiors.  In  order  to 
shift  the  responsibility  from  their  own  shoulders, 
they  declared  that  the  governor  had  not  done  his 
duty,  and  they  asked  the  States-General  to  disap 
prove  of  the  scandalous  surrender  of  New  Nether- 
land.  Stuyvesant  made  a  similar  counter-charge 
and  begged  the  States-General  to  speedily  decide 
his  case,  that  he  might  return  to  America  for  his 
family.  The  authorities  required  him  to  answer 
the  charges  of  the  West  India  Company.  He 
sent  to  New  York  for  sworn  testimony,  and  at  the 
144 


THE  MOVING   WORLD.  145 

end  of  six  months  he  made  an  able  report,  its  al 
legations  sustained  by  unimpeachable  witnesses. 
The  company  made  a  petulant  rejoinder,  when  cir 
cumstances  put  an  end  to  the  dispute.  War  be 
tween  Holland  and  England  then  raging  was  ended 
by  the  peace  concluded  at  Breda  in  16<>7,  when 
the  former  relinquished  to  the  latter  its  claims  to 
New  Netherland.  This  brought  to  an  end  the 
controversy  between  Stuyvesant  and  the  West  In 
dia  Company. 

Stuyvesant  went  to  England  and  obtained  from 
King  Charles  permission  for  three  Dutch  vessels  to 
have  free  commerce  with  New  York  for  the  space 
of  seven  years.  Then  he  sailed  for  America,  with 
the  determination  of  spending  the  remainder  of  his 
life  in  New  York.  lie  was  cordially  welcomed  by 
his  old  friends  and  kindly  received  by  his  political 
enemies,  who  had  learned  by  experience  that  he 
was  not  a  worse  governor  than  the  Duke  had  sent 
them.  Stuyvesant  retired  to  his  boicerie  or  farm 
on  East  River,  from  which  the  famous  Bowery  of 
New  York  City  derived  its  name,  and  in  tranquil 
lity  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

The  people  of  New  York  soon  discovered  that  a 
change  of  masters  did  not  increase  their  prosperity 
or  happiness.  Brodhead  says:  "Fresh  names  and 
laws  they  found  did  not  secure  fresh  liberties. 
Amsterdam  was  changed  to  New  York  and  Orange 
10 


146  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

to  Albany;  but  these  changes  only  commemorated 
the  titles  of  a  conqueror.  It  was  nearly  twenty 
years  before  the  conqueror  allowed  for  a  brief  pe 
riod  to  the  people  of  New  York  even  that  partial 
degree  of  representative  government  which  they 
had  enjoyed  when  the  tri-colored  ensign  of  Hol 
land  was  hauled  down  from  the  flagstaff  of  Fort 
Amsterdam.  New  Netherland  exchanged  Stuyve- 
sant  and  the  West  India  Company  and  a  republican 
sovereignty  for  Nicolls,  a  royal  proprietor  and  a 
hereditary  king.  The  province  was  not  represented 
in  Parliament,  nor  could  the  voice  of  its  people 
reach  the  chapel  of  St.  Stephen  at  "Westminster 
as  readily  as  it  had  reached  the  chambers  of  the 
Binnenhof  at  the  Hague." 

Nicolls  was  succeeded  by  Francis  Lovelace  in 
1(>67.  Lovelace  was  a  quiet  man,  unfitted  to  en 
counter  great  storms,  yet  he  showed  considerable 
energy  in  dealing  with  hostile  Indians  and  French 
on  the  northern  frontier  of  New  York.  He  held 
friendly  intercourse  with  the  people  of  New  Eng 
land,  and  in  the  summer  of  1672,  when  a  hostile 
squadron  of  Dutch  vessels  of  war  appeared  before 
his  capital,  he  was  on  a  friendly  visit  to  Governor 
Winthrop  of  Connecticut.  War  had  again  broken 
out  between  England  and  Holland,  and  the  Dutch 
inhabitants  of  New  York  had  shown  signs  of  dis 
content  at  the  abridgment  of  their  political  privi- 


THE  MOVING    WORLD.  147 

leges  and  a  heavy  increase  in  their  taxes  without 
their  consent.  Personally,  they  liked  Lovelace; 
but  they  were  bound  to  consider  him  as  the  repre 
sentative  of  a  petty  tyrant.  When,  in  menacing 
attitude,  they  demanded  more  liberty  and  less  tax 
ation,  the  governor  in  a  passion  unwisely  declared 
that  they  should  "have  liberty  for  no  thought  but 
how  to  pay  their  taxes."  This  was  resented,  and 
when  the  Dutch  squadron  came,  nearly  all  the 
Hollanders  regarded  their  countrymen  in  the  ships 
as  liberators.  When  Colonel  Manning,  who  com 
manded  the  fort,  called  for  volunteers,  few  came, 
and  these  not  as  friends  but  as  enemies,  for  they 
spiked  the  cannon  in  front  of  the  statehouse. 

The  fleet  came  up  broadside  to  the  fort,  and 
Manning,  sending  a  messenger  for  Lovelace,  opened 
fire  on  the  enemy.  One  cannon  ball  passed  through 
the  Dutch  flagship  from  side  to  side;  but  the  balls 
from  the  fleet  began  pounding  against  the  walls  of 
the  fort.  Six  hundred  Holland  soldiers  landed  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson  above  the  town  and  were 
quickly  joined  by  four  hundred  Dutch  citizens  in 
arms  urging  them  to  storm  the  fort. 

With  shouts  and. yells  of  triumph  the  body  of 
one  thousand  men  were  marching  down  Broadway 
for  that  purpose.  They  were  met  by  a  messenger 
from  Manning  proposing  to  surrender  the  fort,  if 
the  troops  might  be  allowed  to  march  out  with  the 


148  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

honors  of  war.  The  proposition  was  accepted. 
Manning's  troops  marched  out  with  colors  flying 
and  drums  beating  and  laid  down  their  arms.  The 
Dutch  soldiers  marched  in  followed  by  the  English 
troops,  who  were  made  prisoners  of  war  and  con 
fined  in  the  church.  It  was  the  9th  of  August, 
1072,  and  the  air  was  quivering  with  heat,  when 
the  flag  of  the  Dutch  Eepublic  once  more  waved 
over  Fort  Amsterdam,  and  the  name  of  the  city  of 
New  York  was  changed  to  New  Orange,  in  com 
pliment  to  William  Prince  of  Orange. 

The  Dutch  had  taken  New  York. 

The  New  Netherland  and  all  the  settlements  on 
the  Delaware  speedily  followed  the  capture  of  New 
York.  The  other  English  colonies  near  the  prov 
ince  were  amazed  and  prepared  to  defend  their  own 
domains  against  the  encroachments  of  the  Dutch, 
and  Connecticut  foolishly  talked  of  an  offensive 
war.  Anthony  Clove,  the  governor  of  re-conquered 
New  Amsterdam,  ^was  wide-awake.  He  kept  his 
eye  on  the  movements  of  the  savages  and  French 
men  on  the  north,  watched  every  hostile  indica 
tion  in  the  east,  and  sent  proclamations  and  com 
missions  to  towns  on  Long  Island  and  in  Westchester 
to  compel  hesitating  boroughs  to  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  Prince  William  of  Orange.  His  forts 
about  New  Orange  were  strengthened  and  mounted 
with  one  hundred  and  ninety  cannon.  A  treaty  of 


THE  MOVING    WORLD.  149 

peace  between  the  Dutcli  and  English,  however, 
made  at  London  in  1074,  restored  New  Netherland 
to  the  British  crown.  Some  doubts  arising  as  to 
the  title  of  the  Duke  of  York  after  the  change,  the 
king  gave  him  a  new  grant  of  territory  in  June, 
1674,  within  the  boundary  of  which  was  included 
all  the  domain  west  of  the  Connecticut  River,  to 
the  eastern  shores  of  the  Delaware,  also  Long  Island 
and  a  territory  in  Maine.  King  Charles  had  com 
missioned  Major  Edmond  Andros  to  receive  the 
surrender  of  this  province  of  New  Netherland  (New 
York)  to  which  he  was  appointed  governor.  The 
final  surrender  was  made  in  October,  1074,  by  the 
Dutch  governor,  who  delivered  up  the  keys  of  the 
fort  to  Major  Andros,  and  the  English  never  lost 
possession  of  the  colony  and  city,  until  the  united 
colonies  gained  their  independence. 

The  political  changes  in  New  York  had  its  effect 
on  the  settlements  to  the  west  and  south.  Eastward 
of  the  Delaware  Bay  and  River  (so  called  in  honor 
of  Lord  De  la  Warr)  lies  New  Jcrsev.  Its  domain 

/  v 

was  included  in  the  New  Netherland  charter.  So 
early  as  102^,  transient  trading  settlements  were 
made  on  its  soil,  at  Bergen  and  on  the  banks  of 
the  Delaware.  The  following  year,  Director  May, 
moved  by  the  attempt  of  a  French  sea-captain  to 
set  up  the  arms  of  France  in  Delaware,  built  the 
fort  called  Fort  Nassau  at  the  mouth  of  Timmer 


150  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Kill  or  Timber  Creek,  a  few  miles  below  Camden, 
and  settled  some  young  Walloons  near  it.  The 
Walloons  (young  couples),  who  had  been  married 
on  shipboard,  settled  on  the  site  of  Gloucester. 
This  was  the  first  settlement  of  white  people  in  New 
Jersey  that  lived  long;  but  it,  too,  withered  away 
in  time.  It  was  seven  years  later  when  Michael 
Pauw  made  his  purchase  from  the  Indians  of  the 
territory  extending  from  Hoboken  to  the  Raritan 
River  and,  latinizing  his  name,  called  it  Pavonia. 

In  this  purchase  was  included  the  settlement  of 
some  Dutch  at  Bergen.  Though  other  settlements 
were  attempted,  it  was  forty  years  before  any  of 
them  became  permanent.  Cape  May,  a  territory 
sixteen  miles  square,  which  Captain  Heyes  bought 
of  the  Indians,  all  the  time  remained  an  unculti 
vated  wilderness,  yielding  the  products  of  its  salt 
meadows  to  the  browsing  deer. 

After  the  trouble  with  Dutch  and  Swedes  the 
English  came  under  the  agent  of  the  Duke  of  York 
and  captured  the  New  Netherland.  While  Nicolls 
was  on  his  way  to  capture  the  Dutch  possessions  in 
America,  the  Duke  of  York  conveyed  to  two  fa 
vorites  all  the  territory  between  the  Hudson  and 
Delaware  rivers  from  Cape  May  north  to  the  latitude 
of  forty  degrees  and  forty  minutes.  Those  favor 
ites  were  Lord  Berkeley,  brother  of  the  governor 
of  Virginia  and  the  duke's  own  governor  in  his 


THE  MOVING   WORLD.  151 

youth,  and  Sir  George  Carteret,  then  the  treasurer 
of  the  admiralty,  who  had  been  governor  of  the 
island  of  Jersey,  which  he  had  gallantly  defended 
against  the  forces  of  Croimv-ll.  In  the  charter  this 
province  was  named  "Nova  Ctesarea  or  New  Jer 
sey,"  in  commemoration  of  Carteret's  loyalty  and 
gallant  deeds  while  governor  of  the  island  of  Jer 
sey.  Colonel  Richard  Ni colls,  the  conqueror  of 
New  Netherland,  in  changing  the  name  of  the 
province  to  New  York,  ignorant  of  the  charter 
given  to  Berkeley  and  Carteret,  called  the  territory 
west  of  the  Hudson  Albania,  in  honor  of  his  em 
ployer,  who  had  the  title  of  Duke  of  York  and 
Albany. 

Berkeley  and  Carteret  hastened  to  make  use  of 
their  patent.  The  title  of  their  constitution  was: 
"  The  concessions  and  agreement  of  the  Lords  Pro 
prietors  of  the  Province  of  Nova  Ctesarea  or  New 
Jersey,  to  and  with  all  and  every  new  adventurers 
and  all  such  as  shall  settle  and  plant  there."  It 
was  a  fair  and  liberal  constitution,  providing  for 
governor  and  council  appointed  by  the  proprietors, 
and  deputies  or  representatives  chosen  by  the 
people,  who  should  meet  annually  and,  with  the 
governor  and  his  council,  form  a  general  assembly 
for  the  government  of  the  colony.  It  provided  for 
a  choice  of  a  president  by  the  representatives  when 
in  session,  in  case  of  the  absence  of  the  governor 


152  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

and  deputy  governor.  All  legislative  power  was 
vested  in  the  assembly  of  deputies,  who  were  to 
make  all  laws  for  the  province.  These  were  to 
be  consistent  with  the  laws  and  customs  of  Great 
Britain  and  not  repugnant  to  the  interests  of  the 
proprietors.  Emigration  to  New  Jersey  was  en 
couraged.  To  every  free  man  who  would  go  to  the 
province  with  the  first  governor,  furnished  with  a 
good  musket  and  plenty  of  ammunition  and  with 
provisions  for  six  months,  was  offered  a  free  gift 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  land,  and  for 
every  able  man-servant  that  such  emigrant  should 
take  with  him  so  armed  and  provisioned,  a  like 
quantity  of  land.  Even  the  sending  of  such  servants 
provided  with  arms,  ammunitions  and  food  was 
likewise  rewarded.  Arid  for  every  weaker  servant 
or  female  servant  over  fourteen  years,  seventy-five 
acres  of  land  was  given.  "  Christian  servants " 
were  entitled,  at  the  expiration  of  the  term  of  ser 
vice,  to  the  land  so  granted  for  their  own  use  and 
benefit.  To  all  who  should  settle  in  the  province 
before  the  beginning  of  1665,  other  than  those  who 
should  go  with  the  governor,  was  offered  one  hun 
dred  and  twenty  acres  of  land  on  like  conditions. 

It  was  expected  that  these  tempting  offers  would 
rapidly  people  the  country  with  industrious  settlers. 
Philip  Carteret,  a  cousin  of  Sir  George,  was  ap 
pointed  governor,  and  with  about  thirty  emigrants, 


THE  MOVING   WORLD.  153 

several  of  whom  were  Frenchmen  skilled  in  the  art 
of  salt-making,  he  sailed  for  New  York,  where  he 
arrived  about  the  middle  of  July,  1065.  The 
vessel  having  been  driven  into  the  Chesapeake  Bay 
the  month  before,  anchored  at  the  mouth  of  the 
James  River,  from  whence  the  governor  sent  dis 
patches  to  New  York.  Among  them  was  a  copy 
of  the  duke's  grant  of  New  Jersey.  Governor 
Nicolls  was  astounded  at  the  folly  of  the  duke's 
grant,  and  mortified  by  this  dismemberment  of  a 
state  over  which  he  had  been  ruling  for  many 
months  with  pride  and  satisfaction.  But  he  bot 
tled  his  wrath  until  the  arrival  of  Carteret,  whom 
he  received  at  Fort  James  with  all  the  honors  due 
to  his  rank  and  station.  That  meeting  in  the  gov 
ernor's  apartments  was  a  notable  one.  Mr.  Lossing 
graphically  described  it  as  follows: 

"Nicolls  was  tall,  athletic  and  about  forty-five 
years  of  age,  a  soldier,  haughty  and  sometimes  very 
irritable  and  brusque  in  speech  when  excited.  Car 
teret  was  shorter  and  fat,  good-natured  and  affable, 
with  polished  manners  which  he  had  learned  by 
being  much  at  court.  lie  entered  the  governor's 
room  with  Bollen,  the  commissary  of  the  fort,  when 
the  former  arose,  beckoned  his  secretary  to  with 
draw,  and  received  his  distinguished  visitor  cor 
dially.  But  when  Carteret  presented  the  outspread 
parchment,  bearing  the  original  of  the  duke's  grant 


154  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

with  his  grace's  seal  and  signature,  Nicolls  could 
not  restrain  his  feelings.  His  temper  flamed  out 
in  words  of  fierce  anger.  He  stormed,  and  uttered 
denunciations  in  language  as  respectful  as  possible. 
He  paced  the  floor  backward  and  forward  rapidly, 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  and  finally 
calmed  down  and  begged  his  visitor's  pardon  for 
his  uncontrollable  outburst  of  passion. 

"Nicolls  yielded  gracefully .  yet  sorrowfully  to 
circumstances,  and  contented  himself  with  address 
ing  a  manly  remonstrance  to  the  duke,  in  which 
he  urged  an  arrangement  for  the  grantees  to  give 
up  their  domain  in  exchange  for  'a  few  hundred 
thousand  acres  all  along  the  seacoast. '  ' 

The  remonstrance  came  too  late.  New  Jersey 
was  already  down  on  the  maps  as  a  separate  prov 
ince.  Governor  Carteret  at  the  head  of  a  few  fol 
lowers  crossed  over  to  his  domain  with  a  hoe  on  his 
shoulder  in  significance  of  his  desire  to  become  a 
planter.  For  his  seat  of  government  he  chose  a 
beautifully  shaded  spot,  not  far  from  the  strait  be 
tween  Staten  Island  and  the  main,  called  the  Kills, 
where  he  found  four  English  families  living  in  as 
many  neatly  built  log  cabins  with  gardens  around 
them.  The  heads  of  these  four  families  were  John 
Bailey,  Daniel  Denton,  and  Luke  Watson  and  one 
other  not  known,  from  Jamaica,  Long  Island,  who 
had  bought  the  land  of  some  Indians  on  Long  Island. 


III?    TKMI'Kl;    FI.A.MKI)   Ol'T    IN    \WU:I». 


THE  MOVING   WORLD.  155 

In  compliment  to  the  wife  of  Sir  George  Carte- 
ret,  the  governor  named  the  place  Elizabeth  town, 
which  name  it  yet  retains.  There  he  built  a  house 
for  himself  near  the  bank  of  the  little  creek,  and 
there  he  organized  a  civil  government.  So  was 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  colony  and  common 
wealth  of  New  Jersey. 

The  restoration  did  not  so  materially  change  the 
New  England  colonies  as  might  have  been  supposed, 
considering  that  they  were  hotbeds  of  Puritanism. 
In  the  younger  Winthrop  the  qualities  of  human 
excellence  were  mingled  in  such  happy  proportions 
that,  while  he  always  wore  an  air  of  contentment, 
no  enterprise  in  which  he  engaged  seemed  too  lofty 
for  his  powers.  He  was  a  man  whose  power  was 
felt  alike  in  the  commonwealth  and  the  restoration. 
The  new  king  had  not  been  two  years  on  the  throne 
when,  through  his  influence,  an  ample  patent  was 
obtained  for  Connecticut,  by  which  the  colony  was 
independent  except  in  name. 

After  his  successful  negotiations  and  efficient 
concert  in  founding  the  Royal  Society,  Winthrop 
returned  to  America.  The  amalgamation  of  New 
Haven  and  Connecticut  could  not  be  effected  with 
out  collision.  New  Haven  had  been  unwilling  to 
merge  itself  in  the  larger  colonies;  but  Winthrop's 
wise  moderation  was  able  to  reconcile  the  jarrings 
and  blend  the  interests  of  the  united  colonies.  The 


156  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

universal  approbation  of  Connecticut  was  reason^ 
able,  for  the  charter  which  "Winthrop  obtained  se 
cured  to  her  an  existence  of  unsurpassed  tranquillity. 
Civil  freedom  was  safe  under  the  shelter  of  mas 
culine  morality,  and  beggary  and  crime  could  not 
thrive  in  the  midst  of  severest  manners.  From  the 
first,  the  minds  of  the  yeomanry  were  kept  active 
by  the  constant  exercise  of  the  elective  franchise, 
and,  except  under  James  II.,  there  was  no  such 
thing  in  the  land  as  a  home  officer  appointed  by 
the  English  king.  Under  the  happy  conditions  of 
affairs,  education  was  cherished,  religious  knowl 
edge  was  carried  to  the  highest  degree  of  refinement, 
alike  in  its  application  to  moral  duties  and  to  the 
mysterious  questions  on  the  nature  of  God,  of  lib 
erty  and  of  the  soul.  A  hardy  race  multiplied 
along  the  alluvion  of  the  streams  and  subdued  the 
more  rocky  and  less  inviting  fields.  Its  popula 
tion  for  a  century  doubled  once  in  twenty  years, 
though  there  was  considerable  emigration  from  the 
valley.  Religion  united  with  the  pursuits  of  agri 
culture  gave  to  the  people  the  aspects  of  steady 
habits.  The  domestic  wars  were  discussions  of 
knotty  points  in  theology.  The  concerns  of  the 
parish  and  the  merits  of  the  minister  were  the 
weightiest  affairs,  and  a  church  reproof  the  heavi 
est  calamity.  The  strifes  of  the  parent  country, 
though  they  sometimes  occasioned  a  levy  among 


THE  MOVING   WORLD.  157 

the  sons  of  the  husbandmen,  never  brought  an  en 
emy  over  their  border.  No  fears  of  midnight  ruf 
fians  disturbed  the  sweetest  slumber,  and  the  best 
house  required  no  fastening  but  a  latch,  lifted  by 
a  string. 

Happiness  was  enjoyed  unconsciously.  Beneath 
a  rugged  exterior,  humanity  wore  its  sweetest  smile. 
For  a  long  time  there  was  hardly  a  lawyer  in  the 
land.  The  husbandman  who  held  his  own  plough 
and  fed  his  own  eattle  was  the  greatest  man  of  the 
age.  No  one  was  superior  to  the  matron,  who, 
with  her  busy  daughters,  kept  the  hum  of  the  wheel 
incessantly  alive,  spinning  and  weaving  every  arti 
cle  of  their  dress.  Fashion  was  confined  within 
narrow  limits,  and  pride;,  which  aimed  at  no  grander 
equipage  than  a  pillion,  could  exult  only  in  the 
common  splendor  of  the  blue  and  white  linen  gown, 
with  short  sleeves,  coming  down  to  the  waist,  and 
in  the  snow-white  flaxen  apron,  which,  primly 
starched  and  ironed,  was  worn  on  public  days. 
There  was  no  revolution  except  from  the  time  of 
sowing  to  the  time  of  reaping,  from  the  plain  dress 
of  the  week  to  the  more  trim  attire  of  Sunday. 
Every  family  was  taught  to  look  to  the  fountain 
of  all  good. 

Life  was  not  all  sombre.  Frolic  mingled  with 
innocence.  Sometimes  religion  itself  wore  the  garb 
of  gavety,  and  the  annual  thanksgiving  to  God 

O        V  V      ' 


158  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

was,  from  primitive  times,  as  joyous  as  it  was  sin 
cere.  Nature  always  asserts  her  rights,  and  Chris 
tianity  means  gladness. 

The  English  colonies  of  the  south  after  the  res 
toration  began  to  show  evidence  of  improvement. 
Mr.  William  Drummond,  the  sturdy  Scotch  emi 
grant  to  Virginia,  having  been  appointed  governor 
of  North  Carolinia  brought  that  country  into  the 
favorable  notice  of  the  world.  Clarendon  gained 
for  Carolinia  a  charter  which  opened  the  way  for  re 
ligious  freedom.  One  clause  held  out  to  the  pro 
prietaries  a  hope  of  revenue  from  colonial  customs, 
to  be  imposed  in  colonial  ports  by  Carolinia  legis 
latures.  Another  gave  them  authority  to  erect 
cities  and  manors,  counties  and  baronies,  and  to 
establish  orders  of  nobility  with  other  than  Eng 
lish  titles.  The  power  to  levy  troops,  to  erect  for 
tifications,  to  make  war  by  sea  and  land  on  their 
enemies,  and,  in  cases  of  necessity,  to  exercise 
martial  law  was  granted  them.  Every  favor  was 
extended  to  the  proprietaries,  nothing  being  neg 
lected  but  the  interests  of  the  English  sovereign 
and  rights  of  the  colonists.  Imagination  encour 
aged  every  extravagant  hope,  and  Ashley  Cooper, 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury,  the  most  active  and  the  most 
able  of  the  corporators,  was  deputed  by  them  to 
frame  for  the  dawning  states  a  perfect  constitution, 
worthy  to  endure  throughout  all  ages. 


THE  MOVING    WORLD.  159 

The  constitutions  for  Carolinia  merit  attention  as 
the  only  continued  attempt  within  the  United  States 
to  connect  political  power  with  hereditary  wealth. 
America  was  singularly  rich  in  every  form  of  rep 
resentative  government.  Its  political  life  was  so 
varied  that,  in  modern  constitutions,  hardly  a 
method  of  constituting  an  upper  or  popular  house 
has  thus  far  been  suggested,  of  which  the  character 
and  operation  had  not  already  been  tested  in  the 
experience  of  our  fathers.  In  Carolinia  the  dis 
putes  of  a  thousand  years  were  crowded  into  a  gen 
eration. 

"Europe  suffered  from  absolute  but  inoperative 
laws.  No  statute  of  Carolinia  was  to  bind  beyond 
a  century.  Europe  suffered  from  the  multiplica 
tion  of  law-books  and  the  perplexities  of  the  law. 
In  Carolinia  not  a  commentary  might  be  written  on 
the  constitutions,  the  statutes,  or  the  common  law. 
Europe  suffered  from  the  furies  of  bigotry.  Car 
olinia  promised  not  equal  rights,  but  toleration  to 
'Jews,  heathens  and  other  dissenters,'  to  'men 
of  any  religion.'  In  other  respects,  'the  inter 
ests  of  the  proprietors,'  the  desires  of  'a  govern- 
ment  most  agreeable  to  monarchy,'  and  the  dread 
of  'a  numerous  democracy,'  arc  avowed  as  the 
motives  for  forming  the  fundamental  constitutions 
of  Carolinia. 

"The  proprietaries,  as  sovereigns,  constituted  a 


160  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

close  corporation  of  eight,  a  number  which  was 
never  to  be  diminished  or  increased.  The  dignity 
was  hereditary,  but  in  default  of  heirs,  the  sur 
vivors  elected  a  successor.  Thus  was  formed  an 
upper  house,  self-elected  and  immortal."* 

Carolinia  was  an  aristocracy,  the  instincts  of 
which  dreads  the  moral  power  of  proprietary  cul 
tivators  of  the  soil,  so  enacted  their  perpetual  deg 
radation.  The  leet-men,  or  tenants  holding  ten 
acres  of  land  at  a  fixed  rent,  were  not  only  desti 
tute  of  political  franchises,  but  were  adscripts  to 
the  soil:  "Under  the  jurisdiction  of  their  lord, 
without  appeal,"  and  it  was  added:  "all  children 
of  leet-men  shall  be  leet-men,  and  so  to  all  gener 
ations." 

In  1665,  Albemarle  had  been  increased  by  fresh 
emigrants  from  New  England  and  by  a  colony  of 
ship-builders  from  the  Bermudas,  who  lived  con 
tentedly  with  Stevens  as  chief  magistrate,  under  a 
very  wise  and  simple  form  of  government.  A 
council  of  twelve,  six  named  by  the  proprietaries, 
and  six  chosen  by  the  assembly.  An  assembly, 
composed  of  the  governor,  the  council,  and  twelve 
delegates  from  the  free-holders  of  the  incipient  set 
tlements,  these  formed  a  government  which  en 
joyed  popular  confidence.  No  interference  from 

*  Bancroft,  vol.  i.,  page  495. 


THE  MOVING  WORLD.  161 

abroad  was  anticipated,  for  freedom  of  religion, 
and  security  against  taxation,  except  by  the  colo 
nial  legislature,  were  conceded.  As  their  lands 
were  confirmed  to  them  on  their  own  terms,  the 
colonists  were  satisfied. 

The  authentic  record  of  the  legislative  history 
of  North  Carolinia  begins  with  the  autumn  of  16fi6, 
when  the  legislators  of  Albemarle,  ignorant  of  the 
scheme  which  Locke  and  Shafetsbury  were  matur 
ing,  formed  a  few  laws,  which,  however  open  to  ob 
jection,  were  united  to  the  character  and  manner 
of  the  inhabitants.  While  freedom  struggled  in 
the  hearts  of  the  common  people  to  assert  its  rights 
and  declare  that  all  men  were  equal  and  ought  to 
be  free,  scheming  nobles  sought  to  enchain  them 
in  one  form  or  another  of  slavery. 
11 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    FUGITIVE    AND    HIS    CHILD. 

"  Adieu  !  adieu  !     My  native  shore 

Fades  o'er  the  waters  blue. 
The  night  winds  sigh,  the  breakers  roar, 
And  shrieks  the  wild  sea-mew. " 

AT  the  close  of  a  July  day  in  the  year  of  the 
restoration,  a  man,  travelling  on  foot  and  leading  a 
little  girl  six  years  of  age,  entered  the  town  of  Bos 
ton.  The  few  inhabitants  on  the  streets  and  at 
their  doors  and  windows  regarded  the  travellers 
with  amazement  and  even  suspicion,  for  both  were 
strangers  in  this  part  of  the  world.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  meet  wayfarers  of  more  wretched  ap 
pearance.  He  was  tall,  muscular  and  robust,  and 
in  the  full  vigor  of  life.  His  age  might  be  any 
where  from  thirty-five  to  forty-five,  for  while  his 
eye  possessed  the  fire  of  youth,  there  were  streaks 
of  gray  in  his  long  hair  and  beard.  His  ruffled 
shirt  of  well-worn  linen  was  met  at  the  neck  by  a 
modest  ruff  faded  and  torn  like  the  shirt,  and  both 
sadly  in  need  of  washing.  On  his  head  he  wore 
162 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  163 

a  round  black  cap  which,  if  it  ever  had  a  peak,  had 
lost  it.  The  trousers  of  dark  stuff  came  just  below 
the  knee,  Puritan  fashion,  and  were  met  by  coarse 
gray  stockings.  The  feet  were  encased  in  coarse 
shoes  with  steel  buckles,  and  a  sable  blouse  well 
worn  was  held  close  to  the  body  by  a  belt.  His 
only  visible  weapon  was  a  knotted  stick.  Perspi 
ration,  heat,  exhaustion  from  travelling  on  foot, 
with  dust,  added  something  sordid  to  his  general 
wretched  appearance. 

No  less  interesting  than  the  man  was  the  child 
he  led  at  his  side.  Her  great,  dark  brown  eyes 
and  golden  hair  were  indications  of  beauty,  despite 
the  careworn  look  and  dust-covered  features.  She 
wore  a  hood  and  frock,  stockings  and  thick  Eng 
lish  shoes  of  the  period.  Like  the  man,  the  child 
had  a  haggard  look,  and  her  clothing  was  faded 
and  worn.  There  were  leaves  and  dust  in  that 
golden  hair,  as  if  her  pillow  had  been  the  earth, 
and  her  beautiful  brown  eyes  had  a  terrified  look, 
as  if  some  dread  possessed  her  mind. 

The  appearance  of  these  two  travel -stained  stran 
gers  occasioned  much  comment  in  Boston.  No  one 

o 

knew  them.  Where  did  they  come  from?  The 
south,  perhaps  the  seaboard,  for  they  made  their 
entrance  from  the  Plymouth  and  Rhode  Island 
roads.  But  why  had  they  come  by  land  when 
travel  by  water  was  so  much  easier?  They  must 


164  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

have  been  walking  all  day,  for  the  child  seemed 
very  tired.  Some  women,  who  had  seen  them  en 
ter  the  old  suburb  at  the  lower  part  of  the  town, 
asserted  that  the  stranger  was  carrying  the  child  in 
his  arms  when  he  came  to  the  town.  They  saw 
him  halt  under  some  trees  by  the  big  spring  and 
both  man  and  child  drink  of  the  pure  sweet  waters. 
On  reaching  the  corner  of  what  is  now  Washing 
ton  Street  he  paused  a  moment  and  glanced  toward 
the  house  of  the  governor  as  if  he  would  go  there; 
but,  after  a  few  whispered  words  with  the  child, 
he  shook  his  head  and  turned  his  attention  toward 
the  principal  inn  of  the  town. 

The  child  evidently  caused  this  change  in  his 
mind,  for  Mrs.  Alice  Stevens,  who  from  her  win 
dow  was  watching  the  pair  with  no  little  interest, 
thought  the  little  girl  looked  hungry  and  tired. 
She  was  on  the  point  of  going  out  to  offer  her  some 
refreshments  and  ask  the  wanderers  to  come  in  and 
rest,  when  they  went  on.  The  travellers  must  have 
been  very  thirsty,  for  the  children  who  followed 
them  saw  them  pause  at  the  town-pump  and  drink 
again. 

There  was  at  this  time  in  Boston  a  very  respec 
table  inn,  at  which  Bradford  the  governor  of  New 
Plymouth  had  been  entertained  by  the  elder  gov 
ernor  Winthrop.  The  man  and  child  proceeded 
to  this  inn,  the  best  in  the  town,  and  entered  the 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  165 

broad  piazza  which  was  on  a  level  with  the  street. 
All  the  ovens  were  heated,  and  the  host,  who  was 
also  chief  cook,  was  preparing  supper.  The  sav 
ory  smell  of  cooked  meats  and  vegetables  filled  the 
aii'  with  an  odor  which  seemed  to  increase  the  child's 
hunger.  The  man  and  child  without  a  word  sank 
down  upon  the  wooden  benches  and  listened  to  the 
conversation  of  some  men  who  were  drinking  in 
the  tap-room.  The  peals  of  laughter  and  loud 
talk  certainly  were  very  unlike  the  staid  Puritans 
of  New  England.  Anon,  one  of  them  struck  up  a 
cavalier  song  very  popular  among  that  sect  at  the 
period,  and  ended  with: 

"God  save  the  King!" 

No  war-horse  ever  heard  the  blast  of  a  trumpet 
with  more  lire  in  his  soul  than  did  the  stranger  sit 
ting  on  the  porch  holding  his  child  by  one  hand,  and 
his  knotted  stick  in  the  other,  hear  that  cry.  His 
hand  involuntarily  clutched  the  stick  as  if  it  were  a 
sword,  and  his  breath  came  hard  and  quick,  as  if  he 
were  eager  to  rush  into  battle.  The  child  seemed 
instinctively  to  catch  the  idea  of  her  father  and 
clutched  his  arm  with  both  her  hands,  while  her 
soft  brown  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  mute  appeal, 
and  he  sat  enduring  the  insult  without  a  murmur. 

The  kitchen  was  not  so  far  away  but  that  the 
partridges,  grouse  and  trout  on  spits  and  in  the 
oven  gave  forth  their  fumes  as  they  browned  to 


166  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

tempting  perfection.  The  little  girl  had  not  yet 
spoken  since  they  had  entered  the  town ;  but  now 
she  fixed  her  eyes  on  her  parent  and  whispered: 

"I  am  very  hungry." 

He  turned  his  great  brown  eyes  on  her  tenderly, 
and  made  no  answer.  At  this  moment  a  tow- 
headed  son  of  the  host  espied  the  strangers  on  the 
porch  and  went  to  his  father  to  report.  The  land 
lord,  with  flushed  face  and  greasy  apron,  appeared 
on  the  porch  and  asked: 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"Supper  and  bed,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  lit 
tle  girl  raised  her  eyes  to  the  host,  giving  him  a 
tired  hungry  stare. 

The  proprietor  of  the  inn  looked  at  them  suspi 
ciously  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  doubting 
their  ability  to  remunerate  him  for  his  accommo 
dations,  asked: 

"  Have  you  money  to  pay  for  that  which  you 
ask?" 

"I  have,"  and  the  mysterious  stranger  drew  from 
an  inside  pocket  of  his  blouse  a  heavy  leathern 
purse.  Unfastening  its  strings  he  emptied  its  con 
tents,  golden  guineas,  into  his  own  hands,  as  if  to 
prove  that  he  had  the  wherewithal  to  pay  for  him 
self  and  child.  The  sight  of  so  much  gold  caused 
the  landlord's  eyes  to  sparkle  with  delight,  and  he 
said: 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HJS  CHILD.  167 

"You  can  have  what  you  ask!" 

The  stranger  returned  his  money  to  his  purse  and 
put  it  in  the  pocket  of  his  blouse.  There  was  an 
air  of  mystery  about  the  stranger  which  puzzled 
the  landlord,  and  he  stood  gazing  at  him,  his  brow 
gathered  into  a  knot  of  wrinkles  as  if  trying  to 
solve  some  intricate  problem.  The  man  was  spar 
ing  of  his  words;  but  when  he  did  speak  there 
was  something  terrible  in  his  voice;  it  was  deep 
and  heavy  like  the  roar  of  a  cannon.  While  the 
landlord  was  gazing  at  him,  lost  in  a  sort  of  rev- 
ery,  he  was  suddenly  startled  by  the  awful  voice 
asking : 

"Will  supper  be  ready  soon?" 

"Directly." 

The  host,  being  thus  recalled  to  his  duty,  wheeled 
about  to  return  to  the  kitchen.  On  his  way  he  \v  as 
met  by  his  wife,  whose  face  was  the  very  picture 
of  terror  and  superstitious  dread. 

"Have  nought  to  do  with  them!  Have  nought 
to  do  with  them!" 

"Wherefore,  good  wife,  do  you  say  as  much?" 

She  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  ears  which 
made  him  turn  pale,  and  with  eyes  starting  from 
their  sockets,  he  asked : 

"How  know  you  this?" 

"Mrs.  Johnson  hath  told  me." 

The  whole  demeanor  of  the  landlord  underwent 


168  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

an  immediate  change,  his  eyes  no  longer  sparkled 
with  delight  at  thought  of  the  golden  guineas,  and 
he  would  sooner  have  handled  a  red-hot  toasting- 
fork  than  have  touched  one  of  them.  For  a  mo 
ment  he  stood  hesitating  and  actually  quaking, 
and  then  he  appealed  to  his  wife  with : 

"What  must  be  done?" 

"Be  done  with  them  at  once.  Marry!  send 
them  hence  without  delay." 

The  good  dame  ruled  the  household,  and  he 
hastily  returned  to  the  porch  where  the  stranger 
and  his  child  were  sitting,  and  said: 

"I  cannot  make  room  for  you!" 

Half  starting  from  his  seat,  the  traveller  fixed  his 
terrible  eyes  on  the  host  and  asked: 

"What  mean  you?  Be  you  afraid  of  your  pay 
ment?  Verily,  I  will  give  you  the  money  before 
I  eat  your  bread,"  and  once  more  he  put  his  hand 
into  the  pocket  of  the  blouse  to  pull  forth  the 
purse;  but  the  landlord  raised  his  own  hand  and, 
with  a  restraining  gesture  and  averted  his  head,  as 
if  he  dreaded  a  sight  of  the  other's  gold,  answered: 

"Nay,  it  is  not  that." 

"Pray,  what  is  it?" 

"I  doubt  not  that  you  have  the  money." 

"Then  why  refuse  me  what  I  ask?" 

"I  have  no  spare  beds.  When  I  said  you  could 
remain,  I  knew  not  that  all  my  rooms  were  taken." 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  169 

The  child  raised  her  beautiful  but  dirt-stained 
face  to  the  host  in  mute  appeal,  while  her  father 
quietly  continued: 

"Put  us  in  the  stables;  we  are  used  to  it." 

"I  cannot." 

"Pray  why  not?  Surely  the  enemies  of  the 
son  of  God  would  not  refuse  him  that." 

The  host  started  at  the  awful  reply,  which  to 
him  was  sacrilege,  and  answered  in  a  faltering  voice: 

"The  horses  take  up  all  the  room." 

The  stranger  seemed  not  entirely  put  out  by  the 
persistent  refusal  of  the  landlord  and  said: 

"We  will  find  some  corner  in  which  to  lie  after 


supper." 


"I  will  give  you  no  supper." 

This  declaration,  made  in  a  firm  tone,  brought 
the  mysterious  traveller  to  his  feet. 

"Can  you,  a  Christian,  speak  thus?"  he  cried. 
"  We  are  dying  of  hunger.  I  have  been  on  my 
legs  since  sunrise,  and  have  walked  ten  leagues  to 
day,  for  most  part  carrying  my  child  on  my  back. 
I  have  the  money,  I  am  hungry,  and  I  will  have 
food." 

"I  have  none  for  you,"  said  the  landlord. 

"What  are  you  cooking  in  your  kitchen,  the 
savory  odors  of  which  are  maddening  to  a  hungry 
man?" 

"It  is  all  ordered," 


170  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"By  whom?" 

"  Merchants  and  travellers  from  Plymouth  and 
New  Amsterdam." 

"  You  can  surely  spare  a  crust  for  my  child,  she 
is  starving." 

The  stern  landlord  hesitated,  when  a  loud  au 
thoritative  "Ahem!"  from  his  invisible  wife 
strengthened  him,  and  he  said: 

"I  have  not  a  morsel  to  spare." 

"I  am  at  an  inn.  I  am  hungry,  I  have  money, 
and  I  shall  remain,"  answered  the  stranger,  sitting 
by  the  side  of  the  little  girl,  who  nervously  clutched 
his  arm.  The  landlord  seemed  quite  put  out,  if 
not  a  little  awed  by  the  determined  manner  of  the 
stranger,  and  turning  about  re-entered  the  house, 
where  he  held  a  whispered  consultation  with  some 
one.  Terror  overcame  the  hunger  of  the  tired 
child,  and,  clinging  to  her  father,  she  whispered: 

"  Let  us  go  from  this  house.  I  am  not  hungry 
now,  let  us  go  to  some  other  place  where  we  will 
not  be  injured." 

He  laid  his  hard,  rough  hand  assuringly  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  frightened  child  and  sought  to 
soothe  her  fears.  At  this  moment  the  landlord, 
who  had  had  his  courage  renewed  by  his  wife,  came 
quite  up  to  the  stranger  and,  in  a  voice  that  wag 
terribly  in  earnest,  said: 

*'  I  know  more  of  you  by  far  than  you  realize, 


THE  FUGITIVE  AXD  HIS  CHILD.  171 

I    am   usually  polite   to   everybody,  so   pray   be 
off." 

For  a  single  instant  a  flash  blazed  from  the  eyes 
of  the  stranger,  then  his  face  grew  deathly  white, 
and  he  rose,  taking  the  hand  of  his  child  in  his 
own  and  went  off.  They  walked  along  the  streets 
at  hap-hazard,  keeping  close  to  the  houses  like  a 
sad  and  humiliated  pair.  His  tired  child  was  at 
his  side,  uncomplaining,  though  scarcely  able  to 
drag  one  weary  little  foot  after  the  other.  They 
did  not  look  back  once.  Had  they  done  so  they 
would  have  seen  that  the  landlord  stood  with  all 
his  guests  and  the  passers-by,  talking  eagerly  and 
pointing  to  them.  Judging  from  the  looks  of  sus 
picion  and  terror,  they  might  have  guessed  that  ere 
long  their  arrival  would  be  the  event  of  the  whole 
town.  They  saw  nothing  of  this,  for  people  who 
are  oppressed  do  not  look  back,  they  know  too 
well  that  evil  destiny  is  following  them. 

Though  sad  and  humiliated,  the  man  was  proud, 
and  had  the  consciousness  of  right  on  his  side. 
Only  for  his  child,  he  might  have  defied  the  land 
lord'  and  all  the  people,  but  the  dread  of  leaving 
her  alone  and  uncared  for  almost  made  a  coward  of 
a  lion.  They  walked  on  for  a  long  time,  turning 
down  streets  new  and  strange  to  them,  and  in  their 
sorrow  forgetting  their  fatigue.  The  sun  had  set 
darkness  was  falling  over  the  landscape,  when 


172  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

the  father,  roused  once  more  to  a  sense  of  duty  for 
his  child,  began  to  look  around  for  some  sort  of 
shelter.  The  best  inn  was  closed  against  them,  so 
he  sought  a  very  humble  ale-house,  a  wretched 
den  which  he  would  have  shuddered  to  have  his 
child  enter  under  other  circumstances.  The  can 
dles  had  been  lighted  and  the  travellers  paused  for 
a  moment  to  look  through  the  windows.  Even 
that  miserable  place  had  something  cheerful  and  in 
viting  about  it.  Some  cavaliers  who  had  come 
from  England  since  the  restoration  were  drinking 
beer,  while  over  the  lire  in  the  broad  chimney 
bubbled  a  caldron  hanging  from  an  iron  hook. 
The  traveller  went  to  the  front  entrance  and  timidly 
raised  the  latch  and  entered  the  room,  bringing  his 
child  after  him. 

"Who  is  there?"  the  landlord  asked. 

"A  traveller  and  his  child  who  want  supper  and 
bed." 

"Very  good.     They  are  to  be  had  here." 

A  long  wooden  bench  was  in  the  room,  and  the 
traveller  sat  down  on  it  and  stretched  out  his  tired 
feet,  swollen  with  fatigue.  The  child  fell  into  the 
seat  at  his  side  and,  laying  her  soft  curly  head  on 
his  lap,  despite  the  fact  she  had  travelled  all  day 
without  food,  fell  asleep.  As  the  stranger  sat  there 
in  the  gloom  of  twilight,  for  no  candle  had  been 
brought  into  the  room,  all  that  could  be  distin- 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  173 

guished  of  "his  face  was  his  prominent  nose,  and 
firm  mouth  covered  with  beard.  It  was  a  firm, 
energetic  and  sad  profile.  The  face  was  strangely 
composed,  for  it  began  by  being  proud  and  ended 
with  humility,  it  commenced  in  stern  austerity  and 
ended  in  kindness.  One  moment  the  eyes  beneath 
the  shaggy  eyebrows  gleamed  with  fires  of  hate, 
next  they  were  softened  in  love  as  the  glance  fell 
on  the  sleeping,  supperless  child.  The  hand  was 
hardened  by  grasping  the  sword-hilt,  and  the  heart, 
which  had  so  of  ten  defied  the  bullets  of  the  enemy, 
was  humble  and  child-like  in  the  presence  of  the 
little  girl. 

The  landlord  was  about  to  prepare  supper  for  the 
hungry  wanderers,  when  a  man  suddenly  entered 
by  the  kitchen  door,  quite  out  of  breath  with  run 
ning.  His  eves  were  opened  wide  with  terror,  and 
he  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  He  proceeded 
to  whisper  some  words  in  the  ears  of  the  land 
lord,  which  caused  him  to  start  and  quake  with 
dread. 

"What  would  I  better  do?''  asked  the  landlord 

in  amazement. 

"  Drive  them  hence.  No  good  ever  comes  to 
one  harboring  such." 

This  being  made  the  plain  Christian  duty  of  the 
landlord,  he  was  not  slow  to  act.  He  went  into 
the  adjoining  room,  walked  up  almost  to  the 


174  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

stranger,  holding  his  sleeping  child  on  his  knee, 
and  said: 

"You  must  be  off." 

At  first  the  eyes  glared  at  the  host  fiercely,  then 
became  more  gentle,  as  he  remarked: 

"You  know  me?" 

"Yes." 

"We  were  turned  away  from  the  other  inn." 

"So  you  will  be  from  this." 

"Where  would  you  have  us  go?" 

"Anywhere  so  you  leave  my  house." 

The  stranger  had  made  no  effort  as  yet  to  rise, 
and  the  child  who  sat  at  his  side  with  her  head  on 
his  knee  still  slept.  Some  one  brought  in  a  lighted 
wax  taper,  and  the  strange  man,  gazing  on  the  face 
of  the  sleeping  child,  asked: 

"Can  she  remain?  See,  she  has  had  no  food 
all  day  and  has  journeyed,  oh,  so  far!  Won't 
you  let  her  remain?" 

"No,  I  will  have  none  of  you  with  me." 

"But  she  hath  done  no  wrong,"  persisted  the 
father. 

The  stubborn  landlord  shook  his  head  and  an 
swered  : 

"  It  brings  ill  luck  to  one  having  such  about. 
You  must  away  and  take  her  with  you." 

The  large,  sad-eyed  man  bent  over  the  sleeping 
child  and  whispered: 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  175 

"Ester!" 

She  awoke  in  a  moment  and  cast  a  bewildered 
glance  about  the  room,  as  a  child  will  on  being 
suddenly  aroused. 

"We  must  go,"  the  father  said,  sadly. 

She  made  no  complaint,  but,  rising,  with  a 
feminine  instinct  common  even  in  a  girl  of  her 
tender  years,  adjusted  her  ruffled  hood  and  dress. 

They  went  out  into  the  night,  for  the  sun  had 
long  since  set,  and  the  far-off  stars  one  by  one 
opened  their  little  e}7es,  until  the  heavens  were  glit 
tering  with  diamonds.  They  entered  a  small  street 
in  which  there  were  numerous  gardens,  some  be 
ing  merely  enclosures  with  stone  fences.  Among 
these  gardens  and  fences  he  saw  a  house  the  win 
dow  of  which  was  illuminated,  and  he  looked 
through  the  open  casement  as  he  had  done  at  the 
inn.  It  was  a  cozy,  whitewashed  room,  with  a 
bed,  a  rude  cradle,  a  few  chairs  and  an  old-fash 
ioned  matchlock  hanging  on  a  rack  made  of  deer's 
antlers  on  the  wall.  A  plain  table  was  laid  for 
supper  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  wax  taper 
burned  on  the  mantel  lighting  up  the  interior  of 
the  Puritan's  home.  A  man  forty  years  of  age  sat 
at  the  table  with  a  baby  on  his  knee.  Two  chil 
dren,  one  four  and  the  other  two  years  old,  sat  at 
his  side,  while  the  mother  was  placing  supper  on 
the  table.  What  a  tempting  sight  for  a  hungry 


176  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

man!  Could  one  conceive  a  more  happy  family 
picture?  The  travellers  looked  on,  and  the  father 
was  almost  maddened  when  he  glanced  at  his  own 
child. 

"Papa,  I  am  so  hungry  and  so  tired,"  she  whis 
pered.  "  Won't  you  ask  them  if  we  can  stay  here?" 

Fugitives  from  the  law  must  have  a  care  where 
they  go,  and  to  whom  they  appeal,  yet  Ester's 
father  was  growing  more  desperate  every  moment. 
He  went  boldly  to  the  door  and  gave  a  timid  rap 
with  his  knuckle.  That  hand  once  bold  enough 
to  strike  a  king  from  his  throne  was  weak  and 
trembling  on  this  night.  At  sound  of  the  knock, 
the  husband  and  father  seemed  to  have  suddenly 
changed.  The  lion  may  sport  and  play  with  his 
whelps  in  his  lair,  but  when  the  intruder  enters  his 
domestic  abode,  all  is  changed.  He  rose,  took  up 
the  light  and  went  to  the  door.  He  was  a  tall  man 
and,  judging  from  his  charcoal-begrimed  features, 
a  blacksmith,  and  he  wore  a  large  leathern  apron 
which  came  quite  to  his  shoulder.  As  he  threw 
back  his  head  the  shirt-front  opened,  displaying 
his  bare  neck  and  hairy  chest.  His  face  was  sul 
len,  with  a  bull-dog  expression  on  it.  Without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  the  stranger  began: 

"I  am  weary,  and  my  child  hath  had  no  food 
to-day.  Would  you,  for  money,  give  us  a  morsel 
to  eat  and  a  blanket  and  corner  in  which  to  sleep?" 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  177 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  smith. 

"  We  came  from  New  Plymouth,  and  have  walked 
all  day.  I  will  pay  you  well  for  what  you  give 
us." 

The  blacksmith  loved  money;  but  those  were 
troublesome  times,  and  people  had  to  be  careful 
whom  they  admitted  into  their  houses.  The  king 
had  been  restored  and  was  pursuing  his  enemies 
with  a  vengeance,  and  to  harbor  a  regicide  might 
mean  death  on  the  scaffold.  The  smith  thought 
of  all  this,  and  asked: 

"Why  do  you  not  go  to  one  of  the  inns?" 

"There  is  no  room  there." 

"Nonsense!  that  is  impossible.  Have  you  been 
to  Robinson's?" 

"  I  have  been  to  all." 

"Well?" 

The  traveller  continued  with  some  hesitation, 
"I  do  not  know  why;  but  they  all  refuse  to  take 
us  in." 

The  man  knew  there  was  something  wrong  with 
the  travellers,  and  turning  about,  he  held  a  whis 
pered  consultation  with  his  wife.  She  was  heard  to 
say  in  a  faint  whisper:  "It  is  the  same,  a  man 
with  a  child."  Then  the  smith  turned  on  the 
stranger,  and  said: 

"Be  off." 

The  proud  eye  of  a  daring  trooper  in  despair  is 
12 


178  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

the  saddest  sight  one  ever  gazed  upon.  Such  was 
the  look  of  the  humiliated  man,  as,  with  his  starv 
ing  child,  he  turned  from  the  last  door.  At  times 
the  spirit  of  revenge  rose  in  his  breast,  and  he  was 
inclined  to  turn  on  the  men  who  refused  his  child 
food,  drink  and  shelter,  and  with  his  stout  knotted 
stick  beat  out  their  brains;  but,  on  second  thought, 
he  restrained  himself  and  said: 

"No — no;  I  will  not  make  an  outlaw  of  myself. 
I  am  not  a  robber." 

lie  who  had  been  the  commander  of  thousands, 
the  king  of  the  battle-field,  at  whose  name  princes 
grew  pale  and  thrones  tottered,  was  now  a  wan 
derer  from  house  to  house,  rejected  at  every  door. 

"lam  so  hungry,"  murmured  Ester.  "If  I 
had  but  a  morsel  of  food,  I  could  sleep  under  a 
tree." 

He  heard  the  plaintive  appeal,  and  it  wrung  his 
fatherly  heart.  Through  his  teeth  he  hissed: 

"If  I  am  made  a  savage  let  all  the  world 
beware." 

They  were  climbing  a  hill  to  enter  another  part 
of  the  towrn,  when  they  came  upon  a  kind  old  Pu 
ritan  woman,  who  paused  to  gaze  in  compassion  on 
the  wayfarers.  If  others  kept  off  from  them  as 
though  they  were  creatures  to  contaminate  by  a 
touch,  she  seemed  to  entertain  no  such  fears.  Com 
ing  quite  close,  she  said: 


THE  FUGITIVE  AND  HIS  CHILD.  179 

"Prythee,  friend,  why  do  you  not  get  this  child 
to  bed?" 

"I  would,  good  woman,  had  I  a  bed  for  her; 
but,  alas,  all  doors  are  shut  against  us." 

"Surely  not  all!" 

"I  have  tried  the  inns  and  the  home  of  the 
smith;  but  they  seem  to  fear  us,  as  if  we  were 
polution." 

"  Have  you  called  at  that  house?"  she  asked, 
pointing  to  a  steep-roofed  building,  the  top  of 
which  was  just  visible  over  the  hill  in  the  light  of 
the  rising  moon. 

"No,  who  lives  there?" 

"Mathew  Stevens,  a  very  good  old  man." 

"Has  he  a  heart?     Is  he  brave?" 

"He  has  a  heart  tender  enough,  and  he  is  brave 
enough  to  shelter  the  oppressed,  in  spite  of  other 
people's  opinions." 

The  woman  went  her  way,  and  the  traveller  and 
his  weary  child  went  slowly  over  the  hill  to  the 
house.  It  seemed  a  great  distance.  Many  a  time 
after  that  Ester  traversed  the  distance  alone  and 
thought  it  short;  but  on  that  night  rods  were 
lengthened  out  into  miles.  As  they  were  passing 
the  window,  Ester  saw  a  man  about  the  age  of  her 
father  reading  a  Bible.  He  sat  at  a  table  on  which 
burned  a  taper,  and  his  wife  and  children  were 
gathered  about  listening.  Surely  a  man  who  would 


180  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

read  the  Bible  would  not  refuse  them  food  and 
shelter.  She  staggered  up  to  the  door  by  her 
father's  side,  in  a  dazed,  half-conscious  manner, 
and  was  cognizant  of  his  knocking,  and  the  door 
being  opened.  Their  story  was  told  briefly,  and 
then  warm  arms  encircled  the  little  fugitive,  a  col 
ored  slave  prepared  a  supper,  and  Ester  was  awak 
ened  to  eat  it,  after  which  she  sank  into  slumber 
on  her  father's  breast. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TYRANNY    AND    FLIGHT. 

"  Oh,  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness, 
Some  boundless  contiguity  of  shade, 
Where  rumor  of  oppression  and  deceit, 
Of  successful  or  unsuccessful  war, 
Might  never  reach  me  more. " 

— COWPER. 

WHEN  Virginia  came  back  to  the  royal  fold, 
her  people  little  suspected  that  she  was  to  be 
fleeced  by  the  very  men  for  whom  they  had  clam 
ored.  No  event  worthy  of  note  had  occurred  in 
the  colony  until  September,  1603,  when  what  was 
known  as  the  "Oliveriau  Plot  "was  concocted.  A 
number  of  indented  servants  conspired  to  "  antici 
pate  the  period  of  their  freedom,"  and  made  an  ap 
pointment  to  assemble  at  Poplar  Spring  in  Glouces 
ter,  with  what  precise  designs  is  not  known.  They 
were  betrayed  by  one  of  their  number,  and  Berke 
ley,  who  already  seemed  to  thirst  for  blood,  had 
the  four  ringleaders  hung. 

Jamestown  was  the  gay  city  of  the  South;  but 
the  halcyon  days  promised  on  the  restoration  of 
181 


182  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Virginia  to  royalty  were  never  realized.  The 
common  people  were  made  worse  for  the  change, 
and  only  the  favorite  few  were  bettered. 

At  the  home  of  Mrs.  Dorothe  Price  matters  went 
on  fairly  well.  Her  children  from  the  first  seemed 
to  whisper  rebellion ;  but  the  stern  cavalier  hus 
band  met  them  with  firmness.  Kobert  Stevens, 
who  had  incurred  the  man's  dislike  before  he  had 
wed  his  mother,  realized  that  his  stepfather  had 
not  forgotten  and  was  not  likely  to  forget  the  as 
sault.  His  face,  which  at  times  could  be  pleasant, 
was  firm  and  immovable  with  Eobert.  He  never 
smiled  on  the  boy  nor  gave  him  one  encouraging 
word. 

When  the  cavaliers  and  ladies  assembled  at  the 
house,  the  children  were  sent  away.  Robert  was 
strong  and  athletic.  His  early  hardships  had  bred 
in  him  a  spirit  of  fearless  independence  and  free 
dom,  which  few  of  his  age  realized.  Mr.  Price 
saw  that  unless  he  early  mastered  him,  he  would 
not  be  able  to  do  so,  for  Eobert  was  rapidly  grow 
ing  larger.  The  gloomy  taint  in  Hugh  Price's 
blood  was  his  religion,  which  was  austere  and 
wrathful.  He  could  assume  a  character  of  firm 
ness  when  he  chose  to  do  so,  and  then,  despite  his 
silk,  lace,  and  ruffles,  he  became  terrible.  One 
day  when  Robert  had  exhibited  a  strong  spirit  of 
insubordination,  he  took,  his  arm  and,  sitting  on  a 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  183 

chair,  held  him  standing  before  him  for  a  long 
time,  gazing  into  his  face.  The  little  fellow  met 
his  glance  without  quailing,  though  he  could  feel 
his  heart  within  his  bosom  giving  great  thumps. 

"Robert,"  he  said,  pressing  his  lips  firmly  to 
gether,  "do  you  know  what  I  do  if  my  horse  or 
dog  will  not  obey  me?" 

"No,"  was  the  answer. 

"I  beat  him  and  make  him  smart  until  I  have 
conquered  him.  I  would  drain  every  drop  of  blood 
from  his  veins,  but  I  would  conquer  him." 

Glaring  at  him  with  a  fury  that  made  the  strong 
man  wince,  the  lad  answered: 

"If  you  beat  me  I  will  kill  you." 

For  several  minutes  the  stepfather  sat  glaring  at 
Eobert  who  met  his  gaze  with  defiance.  Hugh 
Price  read  in  the  face  of  the  child  hate,  and  in 
wardly  realized  that  there  was  a  struggle  in  the  near 
future  which  might  end  in  the  death  of  one  or  the 
other;  but  if  those  forebodings  were  in  his  mind, 
he  did  not  let  the  boy  see  them,  and  in  a  voice 
quite  cairn  and  intended  to  be  gentle,  he  said: 

"  Go  away,  Robert,  until  you  are  more  reason 
able." 

Robert  Stevens  might  have  been  improved  for 
his  whole  life  by  a  single  kind  word  at  that  mo 
ment;  but  the  haughty  cavalier  would  not  bow  to 
the  will  of  any  one,  much  less  to  the  boy  he  al- 


184  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

ready  hated.  A  word  of  encouragement,  expla 
nation,  pity  for  his  childish  ignorance,  of  reassurance 
that  his  mother's  roof  was  to  be  his  home,  might 
have  made  him  really  dutiful. 

On  his  way  out  he  heard  a  sob,  and,  going  into 
his  mother's  room,  found  her  on  her  knees  weep 
ing  bitterly.  Tenderly  he  wound  his  arms  around 
that  weak  mother,  whom  he  loved  with  all  the  fer 
vency  of  his  young  soul,  and  his  own  tears  min 
gled  with  hers.  They  were  in  this  position  when 
Hugh  Price,  on  his  way  to  mount  his  horse,  paused 
a  single  instant  to  gaze  on  the  scene,  and  then, 
muttering  something  about  weakness  of  women, 
added  an  oath  and  hurried  from  the  house. 

When  he  was  gone,  Dorothe  rose  from  her  knees 
and,  clasping  Eobert  in  her  arms,  cried: 

"Oh,  Eobert,  I  heard  it  all!" 

"Mother,  I  mean  it!"  he  answered. 

"  No,  no;  for  my  sake,  promise  me  you  will  not, 
Eobert." 

"Mother,"  said  the  boy,  "my  own  father  never 
struck  me  a  blow.  He  who  had  the  right  to  pun 
ish  me  never  found  it  necessary,  and  he  shall  not." 

Dearly  as  Eobert  loved  his  mother,  he  would 
not  yield  to  Hugh  Price.  He  would  have  suffered 
torture  rather  than  caused  his  mother  a  single  tear; 
but  to  yield  to  the  haughty  cavalier  was  impossible. 

Public  schools  were  unknown  in  that  day,  and 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  185 

what  little  learning  was  to  be  acquired  was  by  pri 
vate  tutors.  Sometimes  Price  talked  of  sendino- 

G 

the  boy  to  England  to  school,  more  to  get  rid  of 
him  than  from  any  real  desire  to  improve  his  mind. 
The  mother  objected  to  this.  Then  the  stepfather 
tried  to  effect  a  compromise  by  sending  him  to 
Harvard  College  in  Massachusetts,  for  he  had  rela 
tives  in  Boston  who  might  keep  an  eye  on  the  in 
corrigible  youth;  but  the  fond  mother  clung  to  her 
son,  and  having  a  fair  education  herself,  Eobert 
and  his  sister,  a  pale  little  creature,  whose  great 
dark  eyes  were  like  her  mother's,  became  pupils 
with  the  mother  for  teacher.  She  was  an  indulgent 
preceptress  and,  for  a  short  season,  renounced  the 
pleasures  and  follies  grown  so  dear  to  her  heart, 
and  devoted  herself  to  the  improvement  of  her  chil 
dren's  mind.  Mrs.  Price  was  so  blind  as  to  believe 
that  it  was  her  husband's  real  interest  in  Robert's 
welfare  that  made  him  wish  to  send  the  boy  away. 
She  soon  found  her  labor  as  teacher  irksome.  She 
employed  a  private  tutor  and  again  mingled  with 
the  lords  and  ladies,  and  became  one  of  the  spark 
ling  lights  of  Greensprings  Manor. 

Hugh  Price  was  kind  and  indulgent  to  her.  Her 
temperament  suited  his  own  ideas  of  living,  and 
but  for  the  children  they  might  have  been  happy. 

It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Price  entertained  some 
fear  that  Robert  would  execute  his  threat  and  kill 


186  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

him,  for  though  he  often  laid  his  hand  on  the  slen 
der  cane  as  if  he  would  like  to  use  it  on  the  boy, 
he  had  thus  far  refrained;  but  a  crisis  was  coming. 
Price  not  only  entertained  an  aversion  to  Robert, 
but  disliked  Rebecca.  She  shrank  from  him  in  a 
way  that  increased  the  dislike,  although  he  made 
some  efforts  to  reconcile  her  to  him. 

One  day,  a  year  and  a  half  after  his  marriage, 
he  accosted  the  child,  and  she,  shrinking  with 
dread,  failed  to  do  his  bidding.  He  boxed  her 
ears,  and  she  cried  out  with  pain. 

That  scream  roused  Robert,  and  he  flew  tooth 
and  nail  at  the  stepfather.  Hugh  Price,  unpre 
pared  for  this  violent  attack,  shook  the  lad  off, 
held  him  at  arm's  length  for  a  moment  and  said: 

"I  may  as  well  do  it  now  as  ever." 

Robert  wras  in  a  maze,  and  to  him  it  seemed  a 
dream.  His  mother  was  weeping  and  imploring, 
his  sister  screaming,  and  the  faithful  slave  Dinah 
howling.  As  Price  took  him  toward  the  door,  his 
mother  ran  toward  them ;  but  the  husband  angrily 
raised  his  disengaged  hand  and  growled: 

"Dorothe,  you  are  a  perfect  fool!" 

Robert  saw  her  stop  her  ears,  then  heard  her  cry 
ing,  as  he  was  led  slowly  and  gravely  to  his  room. 
The  supreme  moment  had  arrived  when  Mr.  Hugh 
Price  was  to  glut  his  vengeance.  Price  was  de 
lighted  with  this  formal  parade  to  the  execution  of 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  187 

justice,  for  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  conquer 
the  lad's  spirit  or  break  it,  and  when  Robert's  room 
was  reached,  he  suddenly  twisted  his  head  under 
his  arm,  saying: 

"The  moment  has  arrived,  Robert,  when  I  must 
convince  you  that  I  am  master  of  the  house." 

"Mr.  Price,  beware!  Pray  don't  beat  me,  it 
will  only  make  matters  worse.  I  could  not  see 
you  strike  my  sister;  but  if  you  will  not  beat  us, 
we  will  try  to  obey  you  in  the  future." 

"  No,  no,  indeed,  Robert! "  he  answered.  "  The 
time  has  come  to  convince  you  that  I  am  master." 

He  held  the  boy's  arm  until  it  ached  with  pain, 
but  Robert  continued  to  gaze  in  his  face  and  im 
plore  him  for  the  sake  of  the  future  not  to  strike 
him.  The  stepfather  was  in  a  rage,  and  at  that  mo 
ment  little  cared  what  he  roused  in  the  breast  of  the 
boy.  Heedless  of  his  pleading,  he  raised  his  slender 
cane  and  struck  at  him,  but  the  active  lad  dodged 
the  blow  and  caught  his  arm  with  his  sharp  teeth. 

It  now  became  a  fight  to  the  finish.  Hugh 
Price  was  enraged  and  struck  fast  and  furious. 
Above  the  din  of  the  combatants  in  the  room,  the 
angry,  smarting  boy  could  hear  the  darkies  flying 
in  terror  from  room  to  room,  and  his  little  sister 
at  the  door  imploring  mercy  for  her  brother. 
Mingled  with  this  noise  were  the  screams  and  sup 
plications  of  his  mother  until  she  fainted  in  the  arms 


188  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

of  the  negress,  after  which  came  only  the  shrill  cries 
of  little  Rebecca.  Then  the  stepfather  was  gone, 
and  the  door  bolted  on  the  outside.  The  badly 
bruised  lad  lay  raging  and  sobbing  on  the  floor, 
breathing  threats  of  vengeance.  By  degrees  he 
became  quiet  and  listened.  A  strange,  unnatural 
silence  reigned  throughout  the  whole  house.  When 
his  smarting  began  to  subside  his  passion  cooled  a 
little,  yet  he  felt  wicked;  and,  rolling  on  the  floor, 
vowed  he  would  kill  his  stepfather. 

After  a  while  he  sat  up  and  listened  for  a  long 
time;  but  there  was  not  a  sound.  He  crawled  from 
the  floor,  and  the  wounds  made  by  the  cane  of  the 
cavalier  were  so  fresh  and  sore  that  they  made 
him  weep  anew. 

He  sat  by  the  window.  It  had  began  to  grow 
dark,  and  he  was  turning  away  to  lie  on  the  couch, . 
when  he  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  saw  Hugh 
Price  mounted  on  his  favorite  black  charger,  rid 
ing  toward  Greensprings.  Shortly  after,  Dinah's 
step  was  heard  on  the  stairway,  and  his  door  was 
opened. 

"Where  is  Eebecca?"  he  asked. 

"Waiten,"  was  the  answer. 

"Waiting  for  what?" 

"For  you,  Massa  Robert.     You  is  gwine  away." 

"Where?" 

The  negress  did  not  know;    but  Robert  soon 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  189 

learned  that  their  uncle  from  Flower  De  Hundred 
had  come  to  Jamestown  and  agreed  to  take  the 
children  and  rear  them. 

"When  are  wre  to  go,  Dinah?" 

"To-morrow,  Massa." 

"Is  that  why  Mr.  Price  left?" 

"Yes  um.  Him  say  neber  want  to  see  you 
again." 

"Shall  I  see  mother?" 

"Yes,  in  de  mornin'.  Heah  am  yer  suppah 
chile;  now  eat  it  an  den  go  to  sleep,  honey,  for  it 
am  all  ober." 

Consequently  next  morning  at  early  daylight  the 
children  were  mounted  on  horses,  the  chief  mode 
of  travel  in  Virginia  at  that  time,  and,  accompanied 
by  their  aunt's  husband  and  two  negro  slaves,  they 
set  off  on  the  long  journey.  Mrs.  Price  kissed 
them  a  tearful  adieu  and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  This  unfortunate  woman  was  more  weak 
than  bad.  By  one  who  has  not  made  a  study  of 
the  human  heart  and  is  incapable  of  an  analysis  of 
woman,  Mrs.  Price  will  not  be  understood.  There 
are  many  women  like  her,  and,  disagreeable  as  the 
type  may  seem,  it  exists,  and  the  artist  who  is  true 
to  nature  must  paint  nature  as  he  finds  it. 

Three  years  were  passed  by  Eobert  and  his  sister 
at  the  home  of  their  relative,  and  in  those  three 
years  Robert  imbibed  a  spirit  of  republicanism 


190  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

which  at  that  time  was  rapidly  growing  in  Virginia. 
As  Kobert's  uncles  were  republicans,  he  learned 
the  doctrine  from  them.  If  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  his  stepfather  was  a  royalist,  he  would 
have  been  a  republican. 

Nothing  is  more  uncertain  than  political  friend 
ship,  a  friendship  selfish  and  treacherous.  It  as 
sume^  all  things,  absorbs  all  things,  expects  all 
things,  and  disappoints  in  everything.  A  merely 
political  friend  can  never  be  trusted.  Eobert  was 
seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  when  he  be 
came  acquainted  with  Giles  Peram,  a  young  man 
two  or  three  years  his  senior.  Peram  was  a  cari 
cature  on  nature.  He  was  short  of  stature,  had  a 
round,  fat  face,  eyes  that  bulged  from  his  head  like 
those  of  a  toad,  a  corpulent  body,  and  a  walk  about 
as  graceful  as  the  waddling  of  a  duck.  His  short 
legs  and  arms  gave  him  a  decidedly  comical  ap 
pearance. 

He  was  egotistical,  with  flexible  opinions  and 
liable  to  be  swayed  in  any  course.  When  he  was 
at  Flower  De  Hundred,  living  in  the  atmosphere  of 
liberalists  and  republicans,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
outspoken  of  all.  He  would  strut  for  hours  before 
any  one  who  would  listen  to  his  senseless  twaddle 
and  would  harangue  and  discourse  on  the  rights 
of  the  people. 

"Are  you  favorable  to  royalty?"  he  asked  Eob- 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  191 

ert  one  day.  "Don't  you  believe  in  the  rights  of 
the  common  people?" 

"I  certainly  do,"  Kobert  answered,  for  he  was 
thoroughly  democratic. 

"So  do  I — ahem — so  do  I;"  and  then  the  angry 
little  fellow  shook  his  list  at  an  imaginary  foe. 
"Would  you  fight  for  such  principles?" 

"I  would." 

"So  would  I — ahem,  so  would  I,"  cried  Mr.  Pe- 
ram.  Giles  had  a  very  disagreeable  habit  of  re 
peating  his  words.  A  wag  once  said  that  his  ideas 
were  so  few  and  his  words  so  many  that  he  was 
forced  to  repeat.  "I  will  fight  for  the  rights  of 
the  people.  I  will  lead  an  army  myself  and  hurl 
King  Charles  from  his  throne." 

Robert  laughed.  The  idea  of  this  insipid  pig 
my  leading  an  army  to  overthrow  the  king  was 
as  ridiculous  as  Don  Quixote  charging  the  wind 
mills. 

"Give  o'er  such  thoughts,  Giles,  or  perchance 
the  king  will  hang  you." 

"Hang  me!     I  defy  him!"  cried  Mr,  Peram. 

His  manner  was  earnest,  and  Eobert,  who  hated 
Governor  Berkeley,  suggested  they  had  better  be 
gin  their  republic  by  overthrowing  the  governor. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  asked  Giles.  "Aye,  do 
you  mean  it?  Then  why  not  hurl  Berkeley  from 
power." 


192  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Verily,  you  could  not  more  nearly  conform  to 
my  wishes,"  answered  Eobert. 

Then  Giles,  in  his  impetuous  enthusiasm,  em 
braced  Robert.  Giles  Peram  was  not  a  spy,  and 
at  that  time  he  believed  himself  a  stanch  repub 
lican.  A  few  days  later  he  went  to  Jamestown. 
Robert  little  dreamed  that  his  remark  would  bring 
trouble  upon  himself. 

At  this  time  Governor  Berkeley  was  growing 
uneasy.  He  felt  that  he  stood  above  a  burning 
volcano,  from  which  an  eruption  was  liable  to  take 
place  at  any  moment.  He  trembled  at  the  slight 
est  whispers  of  freedom,  for  royalty  dreads  inde 
pendence,  and  the  idle  boasts  of  Giles  Peram  startled 
him.  He  summoned  Hugh  Price  and  consulted 
with  him  on  the  boldness  of  Peram. 

"Fear him  not.  my  lord,"  said  Hugh.  "He  is 
but  an  idle,  boasting,  half-witted  fellow,  as  harm 
less  as  he  is  silly.  There  is  a  plot,  lam  sure;  but 
of  it  I  will  learn  the  particulars  and  advise  you." 

Hugh  Price  was  shrewd,  and,  by  a  little  flattery, 
he  won  over  the  vacillating  Giles  Peram  to  the 
royalists'  side. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will  draw  my  sword  for  the  king, 
ahem — draw  my  sword  for  the  king  at  any  mo 
ment.  I  am  a  loyal  cavalier  of  his  majesty, 
Charles  II. ,  and  woe  to  the  man  who  says  aught 
against  him  or  his  majesty's  governor,  Berkeley." 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  193 

Then  Hugh  told  him  that  there  was  certainly  a 
deep-laid  plot  against  Governor  Berkeley,  and  he 
asked  the  aid  of  Peram  in  ferreting  out  the  lead 
ers.  There  were  no  leaders  and  no  plot;  but  Pe 
ram,  after  cudgeling  his  brain,  remembered  that 
Eobert  Stevens  had  spoken  treasonable  words 
against  the  governor.  Having  changed  his  politics, 
he  was  no  longer  the  friend  of  Eobert  and  was  will 
ing  to  aid  in  his  downfall. 

Price  received  the  intelligence  with  joy.  He 
hated  Robert,  and  this  was  a  good  way  to  get  rid  of 
him.  Often  the  cavalier  had  declared : 

"Marry!  he  is  a  merry  rogue.  He  will  yet  or 
nament  the  gibbet." 

His  predictions  seemed  on  the  verge  of  realiza 
tion.  Berkeley,  grown  petulant  and  merciless  in 
his  old  age,  would  not  hesitate  to  hang  Eobert  on 
suspicion. 

One  evening  as  Eobert  was  going  from  his 
mother's  house  he  noticed  three  or  four  persons 
coming  down  the  street.  Their  manner  might  have 
excited  the  suspicion  of  a  guilty  man;  but  as  Rob 
ert  had  committed  no  crime,  he  relied  wholly  on 
his  innocence.  No  sooner  had  he  stepped  on  the 
street,  however,  than  he  was  arrested. 

"Of  what  offence  am  I  accused?"  he  asked. 

"Treason." 

"Treason!  it  is  false;  I  am  guilty  of  no  treason." 
13 


194  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  mother  and  sister,  hearing  the  angry  words 
without,  hurried  to  the  street  to  find  him  in  cus 
tody.  Wringing  their  hands  in  an  agony  of  dis 
tress,  they  demanded  to  know  the  cause  of  the  ar 
rest,  and  were  informed  that  Robert  had  been 
accused  of  treason  to  the  governor  and  must  be 
committed  to  jail. 

Robert  slept  behind  iron  bars  that  night.  He 
had  many  friends  in  the  town,  who  no  sooner 
learned  of  his  arrest,  than  they  began  to  appeal  to 
the  governor  for  his  release.  Among  them  was 
Drummond,  Cheeseman  and  Lawerence;  but  all 
supplications  and  entreaties  were  of  no  avail. 
Hugh  Price  made  a  pretence  of  defending  his  wife's 
son;  but  the  hollow  show  of  his  pretended  interest 
was  apparent. 

One  night,  as  he  was  lying  on  his  hard  prison 
bunk,  Robert  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  without. 
Some  persons  were  working  at  the  front  door  with 
a  key.  They  seemed  to  be  exercising  due  caution, 
and  soon  the  door  was  open. 

They  came  to  the  door  of  his  cell.  For  a  long 
time  it  seemed  to  baffle  them,  but  at  last  it  yielded, 
and  the  door  opened. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  prisoner,  as  three 
dark  forms  appeared  before  him. 

"Friends,"  a  voice  which  he  recognized  as  Mr. 


TYRANNY  AND  FLIGHT.  195 

Edward  Cheeseman's  whispered.  "We  have  come 
to  liberate  you." 

He  was  led  from  the  jail,  and  then,  by  the  dim 
light  of  the  stars,  he  recognized  William  Drurn- 
mond,  Edward  Cheeseman  and  Mr.  Lawerence. 

"  There  is  a  ship  in  the  harbor  ready  to  sail  for 
Boston,"  said  Mr.  Lawerence.  "You  will  go 
aboard  of  her  and  escape." 

"Can  I  see  my  mother  and  sister  before  I  go?" 

"They  are  waiting  on  the  beach,"  Drummond 
answered. 

Thanking  his  liberators,  he  followed  them  from 
the  jail  to  the  beach.  It  was  midnight,  and  the 
stars  looked  coldly  down  on  the  youth  as  he  hur 
ried  from  the  prison.  His  proud  spirit  rebelled  at 
flying  from  home.  He  had  done  no  wrong  and 
consequently  had  nothing  to  fly  from;  but  when 
his  mother  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  im 
plored  him  to  go,  he  assented. 

"I  shall  appeal  to  the  king,  show  him  my  wrong 
and  obtain  my  right." 

"Have  you  money?"  asked  Mr.  Drummond. 

"None." 

"Here  is  some,"  and  Drummond  placed  in  the 
hand  of  Robert  a  well-filled  purse. 

"  My  friend,  how  can  one  so  poor  as  I  repay 
you?" 


196  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"  Talk  not  of  repayment,"  Drummond  answered, 
"but  go  on.  and  when  you  are  away,  remember  us 
in  kindness." 

The  boat  was  waiting  on  the  beach,  and  the 
sailors  sat  at  their  oars  ready  to  take  him  away  to 
the  vessel  which  lay  at  anchor.  Drummond,  Cheese- 
man  and  Lawerence  withdrew,  leaving  Kobert  alone 
with  his  mother  and  sister.  A  few  silent  tears,  a 
few  silent  embraces,  and  then  he  bade  them  adieu, 
entered  the  boat,  and  was  rowed  away  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTEE   XII. 

THE    DAUGHTER   OF   A   REGICIDE. 

"When  thy  beauty  appears 
In  its  graces  and  airs, 

All  bright  as  an  angel  new  dropped  from  the  sky 
At  a  distance  I  gaze  and  am  awed  at  my  fears, 

So  strangely  you  dazzle  my  eyes. 

— PARNELL. 

OXE  bright  morning  in  autumn  a  ship  from  Vir 
ginia  entered  Boston  Harbor.  The  appearance  of 
a  vessel  was  not  an  uncommon  sight,  and  this  one 
attracted  little  more  than  passing  comment.  Pas 
sengers  were  coming  ashore  and  among  them  a  stal 
wart  youth  of  eighteen.  His  eyes  wandered  about 
over  the  town  while  the  breeze  played  with  his 
long  hair  hanging  about  his  shoulders.  He  wore 
the  costume  of  a  cavalier,  with  a  low-crowned, 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  plume;  but  his  face  had 
all  the  grave  aspect  of  a  Puritan. 

He  asked  no  questions  on  landing,  but  went  up 
to  the  Common,  where  a  fencing-master  had  erected 
a  stage  and  was  walking  back  and  forth  upon  it 
with  a  rapier  in  his  hand,  saying: 
197 


198  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"  Come,  any  who  will,  and  fight  me  with  swords." 

Near  him  were  a  dozen  or  two  swords  of  all 
kinds.  The  new-comer  paused  near  the  platform 
on  which  the  boaster  stood  and  gazed  at  him  in 
wonder. 

"I  have  been  on  this  platform  for  several  days, 
defying  any  man  to  fence  with  me.  Have  you  no 
one  in  Boston  brave  enough?" 

"I  will,"  a  voice  cried  at  this  moment.  All 
turned  at  the  sound,  for  the  voice  was  deep  and 
commanding,  sounding  like  the  boom  of  a  cannon. 

This  stranger  to  all  assembled  on  the  Common 
was  most  singularly  armed  and  equipped  for  a  fight. 
On  his  left  arm,  wrapped  in  a  linen  cloth,  was  a 
large  cheese  for  a  shield,  while  he  carried,  instead 
of  a  sword,  a  mop  dipped  in  muddy  water. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Some  madman." 

"Beware  of  him,  and  allow  him  not  to  go  on 
the  stage,"  cried  another. 

But  the  stranger,  with  an  agility  not  to  be  ex 
pected  in  one  of  his  years,  sprang  upon  the  plat 
form.  The  fencing-master  evidently  thought  he 
had  an  easy  victory,  for  a  smile  curled  his  lip,  as 
he  asked: 

"  Are  you  ready?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer, 

"Guard!" 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A   REGICIDE. 


199 


He  sprang  at  the  fencing-master,  wno  made  a 
thrust  at  him,  burying  the  point  of  his  sword  in 
the  cheese,  where  the  white-haired  man  held  it, 


"  ARE  YOU  READY  !' 


while  he  smeared  the  face  of  his  opponent  with  the 
mud  on  his  mop. 

"Zounds!   master  what  are  you  about?"  cried 
the  fencing-master. 

"Marry!   I  am  teaching  you  new  tactics." 
Releasing  his  sword,  the  fencing-master  ran  to 
the  other  end  of  the  platform  and,  seizing  a  broad 
sword,  cried: 

"I  will  have  it  out  with  you  with  these." 
At  this,  the  old  man  cried  in  a  terrible  voice: 
"Stop,  sir!  hitherto  you  see  I  have  only  played 


200  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

with  you  and  done  you  no  hurt;  but  if  you  come 
at  me  with  the  broadsword,  I  will  take  your  life." 

The  alarmed  fencing-master  cried  out: 

"Who  can  you  be?  You  must  be  either  Goffe, 
Whalley,  or  the  devil,  for  there  are  no  others  in 
England  who  could  beat  me." 

In  order  to  fully  explain  the  meaning  of  the 
fencing-master's  words,  we  beg  leave  to  step  aside 
from  our  story  for  a  moment  and  recall  some  his 
torical  events  which  have  a  bearing  upon  it.  Of 
the  judges  who  tried  and  condemned  Charles  I. 
three  escaped  to  America.  One  was  Edward 
Whalley,  who  had  first  won  laurels  in  the  field 
at  Naseby,  had  even  enjoyed  the  confidence  of 
Cromwell,  and  remained  a  friend  of  the  Independ 
ents;  one  was  William  Goffe,  a  firm  friend  of  the 
family  of  Cromwell,  a  good  soldier  and  an  ardent 
partisan,  but  ignorant  of  the  true  principles  of  free 
dom.  Endicott  was  governor  when  these  two  ar 
rived  in  Boston.  Goffe,  with  his  child,  came  first, 
but  was  known  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  town,  and 
lodging  was  refused  him  at  every  house  until  he 
came  to  the  home  of  the  kind  Puritan,  Mathew 
Stevens,  who  sheltered  the  man  and  his  child, 
though  it  might  endanger  his  own  head. 

Charles  II.  pursued  the  murderers  of  his  father 
with  unrelenting  fury.  Whalley  and  Goffe  both 
had  been  generals  in  the  army  of  Cromwell  and 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE.          201 

were  men  of  undoubted  courage.  When  warrants 
came  for  them  from  England,  they  hurried  across 
the  country  to  New  Haven,  where  it  was  esteemed 
a  crime  against  God  to  betray  a  wanderer  or  give 
up  an  outcast;  yet  such  diligent  search  was  made 
for  them,  that  they  never  knew  security.  For  a 
time  they  went  in  secrecy  from  house  to  house,  for 
awhile  concealing  themselves  in  a  mill,  sometimes 
in  clefts  of  rocks  by  the  seaside,  and  for  weeks  to 
gether,  and  even  for  months,  they  dwelt  in  a  cave 
in  the  forest.  Great  rewards  were  offered  for  their 
apprehension.  Indians  as  well  as  English  were 
urged  to  scour  the  woods  in  quest  of  their  hiding- 
place. 

John  Dixwell,  the  third  regicide,  was  more  for 
tunate.  He  was  able  to  live  undiscovered  and, 
changing  his  name,  was  absorbed  among  the  in 
habitants  of  New  Haven.  He  married  and  lived 
peacefully  and  happily.  Kaleigh's  history  of  the 
world,  written  during  his  imprisonment,  while  he 
was  under  sentence  of  death,  was  his  favorite 
study.  It  is  said  that  to  the  day  of  his  death  he 
retained  a  firm  belief  that  the  spirit  of  English  lib 
erty  would  demand  a  new  revolution,  which  was 
achieved  in  England  while  he  was  on  his  death-bed. 

Another  victim  of  the  restoration,  selected  for 
his  genius  and  integrity,  was  Sir  Henry  Vane,  the 

D  O  •/    ' 

benefactor  of  Ehode  Island.     This  ever  faithful 


202 


A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 


friend  of  New  England  and  liberty  adhered  with 
undaunted  firmness  to  "the  glorious  cause"  of 
popular  liberty,  and,  shunned  by  every  one  who 
courted  the  returning  monarch,  he  became  noted 
for  his  unpopularity.  When  the  Unitarians  were 
persecuted,  not  as  a  sect  but  as  blasphemers,  Vane 
interceded  for  them.  He  also  pleaded  for  the  lib 
erty  of  the  Quakers,  and  as  a  legislator  he  demanded 
justice  in  behalf  of  the  Roman  Catholics.  When 
monarchy  was  overthrown  and  a  Commonwealth 
attempted,  Vane  reluctantly  filled  a  seat  in  the 
council,  and,  resuming  his  place  as  a  legislator, 
amidst  the  floating  wrecks 
of  the  English  constitution, 
he  clung  to  the  existing 
parliament  as  to  the  only 
fragment  on  which  it  was 
possible  to  rescue  English 
liberty.  His  ability  ena 
bled  Blake  to  cope  with 
Holland  on  the  sea. 

After  the  restoration, 
parliament  had  excepted 
Sir  Henry  Vane  from  the 
indemnity,  on  the  king's 
promise  that  he  should  not  suffer  death.  It  was 
resolved  to  bring  him  to  trial,  and  he  turned  his 
trial  into  a  triumph.  Though  he  had  always  been 


SIR  HENRY  VANE. 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE.          203 

supposed  to  be  a  timid  man,  he  appeared  before 
his  judges  with  animated  fearlessness.  Instead  of 
offering  apologies  for  his  career,  he  denied  the  im 
putation  of  treason  with  scorn,  defended  the  right 
of  Englishmen  to  be  governed  by  successive  repre 
sentatives,  and  took  glory  to  himself  for  actions 
which  promoted  the  good  of  England  and  were 
sanctioned  by  parliament  as  the  virtual  sovereign 
of  the  realm.  "He  spoke  not  for  his  life  and  es 
tate,  but  for  the  honor  of  the  martyrs  to  liberty 
that  were  in  their  graves,  for  the  liberties  of  Eng 
land,  for  the  interest  of  all  posterity  to  come." 
When  he  asked  for  counsel,  the  solicitor  said: 

"Who  will  dare  speak  for  you,  unless  you  can 
call  down  from  the  gibbet  the  heads  of  your  fellow- 
traitors?" 

"I  stand  single,"  Vane  defiantly  answered. 
"Yet,  being  thus  left  alone,  I  am  not  afraid,  in 
this  great  presence,  to  bear  my  witness  to  the  glo 
rious  cause,  nor  to  seal  it  with  my  blood." 

Stimulated  by  the  magnanimity  of  this  noble 
spirit,  his  enemies  clamored  for  his  life.  The 
king  wrote: 

"Certainly  Sir  Henry  Vane  is  too  dangerous  a 
man  to  let  live,  if  we  can  honestly  put  him  out  of 
the  way." 

Though  he  could  not  be  honestly  put  out  of  the 
way,  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  die.  The  day 


204  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

before  his  execution  his  friends  were  admitted  to 
his  prison,  and  sought  to  cheer  his  drooping  spirits. 
He  calmly  reviewed  his  political  career,  and  in 
conclusion  said: 

"  I  have  not  the  least  recoil  in  rny  heart  as  to 
matter  or  manner  of  what  I  have  done.  Why 
should  we  fear  death?  1  find  it  rather  shrinks 
from  me  than  I  from  it."  His  children  gathered 
around  him,  and  he  stopped  to  embrace  them,  min 
gling  consolation  with  his  kisses.  "  The  Lord  will 
be  a  better  father  to  you  than  I  could  have  been. 
Be  not  you  troubled,  for  I  am  going  to  my  father." 

His  farewell  counsel  was: 

"Suffer  anything  from  men  rather  than  sin 
against  God."  When  his  family  had  withdrawn, 
he  declared:  "I  leave  my  life  as  a  seal  to  the  just 
ness  of  that  quarrel.  Ten  thousand  deaths,  rather 
than  defile  the  chastity  of  my  conscience;  nor 
would  I,  for  ten  thousand  worlds,  resign  the  peace 
and  satisfaction  I  have  in  my  heart." 

He  was  beheaded  at  the  block,  and  Charles  II. 
smiled  when  news  was  brought  to  him  of  the  exe 
cution.  We  must  not  regard  Charles  II.  as  a 
bloodthirsty  man.  In  fact,  he  was  rather  good- 
natured,  thinking  more  of  pleasures  and  beautiful 
mistresses  than  of  vengeance;  but  it  was  only  nat 
ural  that  he  should  feel  anxious  to  bring  the  mur 
derers  of  his  father  to  the  scaffold. 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE.          203 

He  had  no  love  for  Puritan  Massachusetts  and 
threatened  to  deprive  them  of  their  liberties,  de 
manding  the  retiring  of  the  charter,  which  they  re- 
fused  to  surrender.  Various  rumors  went  to  Eng 
land  to  the  detriment  of  the  people  of  Massachu 
setts.  The  New  Englandcrs  were  not  ignorant  of 
the  great  dangers  they  incurred  by  refusing  to  com 
ply  with  the  demand  of  the  sovereign.  In  January, 
1663,  the  council  for  the  colonies  complained  that 
the  government  there  had  withdrawn  all  manner  of 
correspondence,  as  if  intending  to  suspend  their 
obedience  to  the  authority  of  the  king.  It  was 
currently  reported  in  England  that  Whalley  and 
Goffe  were  at  the  head  of  an  army.  The  union  of 
the  four  New  England  colonies  was  believed  to 
have  had  its  origin  in  the  express  "purpose  of 
throwing  off  dependence  on  England." 

Friends  of  the  colonies  denied  the  reports  and  as 
sured  the  king  that  New  England  was  loyal ;  but 
despite  the  fact  of  their  assertions,  Whalley  and 
Goffe  were  still  at  large. 

Even  when  their  pursuers  were  close  on  their 
trail,  Goffe,  with  a  daring  that  was  reckless,  fre 
quently  appeared  in  Boston,  usually  in  disguise. 
Long  sojourn  in  rocks  and  caves  had  given  him  a 
natural  disguise,  in  the  long,  snowy  hair  and  beard. 

It  was  on  one  of  his  daring  visits  to  Boston,  that 
he  met  and  conquered  the  fencing-master  as  nar- 


206  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

rated  in  the  opening  of  this  chapter.   Having  hum 
bled  the  boaster,  the  man  with  the  cheese  and  mop 
descended  from  the  platform,  threw  away  his  weap 
ons  and  advanced  toward  the  youth  who  had  been 
an  amazed  spectator  of  the  scene. 

"Good  morrow,  friend.  Do  you  belong  here?" 
he  asked,  taking  his  hand. 

"No,  sir,  I  just  came  in  on  the  vessel." 

"Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?" 

"Some  relatives  named  Stevens." 

"Is  your  name  Stevens?" 

"It  is,  sir." 

"And  you  are  from  Virginia?"  the  old  man 
asked. 

"Verily,  you  have  guessed  it,  sir.  Who  may 
you  be?" 

Without  answering  him,  the  strange  swordsman 
seized  his  arm,  saying: 

"Come  with  me;  I  am  going  to  the  house  of 
Mathew  Stevens.  What  is  your  father's  name?" 

"John  Stevens  was  his  name;  but  he  is  dead. 
He  went  on  a  voyage  and  was  lost  at  sea  when  I 
was  quite  young." 

"  And  your  grandfather  was — " 

"Philip  Stevens,  the  friend  of  Captain  John 
Smith." 

"  I  know  of  him.  We  will  go  to  the  home  of 
your  relatives."  He  led  Robert  over  the  hill 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE.          207 

toward  a  neat  looking  bouse,  one  of  the  best  in 
Boston.  Tbe  old  man  was  nervous  and  frequently 
baited  to  look  about,  as  if  expecting  pursuit. 

"Surely  you  bave  no  one  to  fear?"  said  Robert. 

"  Whom  should  I  fear — the  man  whose  face  I 
plastered  with  mud?  I  carry  a  sword  at  my  side, 
and  he  could  not  fight  me  in  a  single  combat." 

"  But  he  said  something.    He  called  you  a  name. " 

"What  name?" 

"Goffe." 

"What  know  you  of  Goffe,  pray?" 

"I  have  heard  of  him.  My  mother's  husband 
frequently  spoke  of  him  as  a  regicide." 

The  swordsman  gazed  on  him  for  a  moment,  and 
asked : 

"Do  you  know  what  a  regicide  is?" 

"A  king- killer." 

"Well,  my  young  cavalier,  when  a  king  has 
been  convicted  of  treason,  should  he  not  suffer 
death  as  the  humblest  peasant  in  the  land?" 

"He  should,"  cried  Robert,  on  whose  republican 
soul  the  argument  fell  with  a  delightful  sensation. 
"A  king  is  but  a  man  and  no  better  than  the  poor 
est  in  the  realm." 

"Ha!  young  cavalier  from  Virginia,  dare  you 
utter  those  words  in  your  own  colony?" 

"  No;  I  left  my  colony  because  I  could  not  abide 
there." 


208  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"What!  a  fugitive?" 

"  I  escaped  prison  by  the  aid  of  friends  and  fled 
to  Boston." 

"And  wherefore,  pray,  were  you  imprisoned?" 

"  On  the  charges  of  my  mother's  husband  and  a 
false  friend  in  whom  I  trusted." 

General  Goffe  shook  his  white  locks  and  said: 

"  So  young,  and  made  to  feel  the  grinding  heel 
of  the  despot!  Verily  the  suffering  race  of  Adam 
will  claim  their  rights  some  time." 

They  reached  the  home  of  Mathew  Stevens,  a 
large  old-fashioned  New  England  house,  and  were 
admitted  at  once. 

Kobertwas  conscious  of  being  in  the  presence  of 
several  strange  but  kindly  faces.  There  was  an 
old  man  and  woman  with  some  young  people  of 
his  own  age.  Then  he  noticed  among  them  a  beau 
tiful,  fairy-] ike  little  creature,  some  four  years 
younger  than  himself,  who,  at  sight  of  the  white- 
haired  man,  rushed  toward  him  and,  placing  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  cried: 

"Father,  father,  father!" 

"Ester,  my  child,"  the  swordsman  returned, 
"have  you  been  happy?" 

"Happy  as  one  could  be  with  father  away." 

"  Now  that  I  have  returned,  you  need  sorrow  no 
more." 

All  the  while  Kobert  Stevens  was  standing  on 


THE  DAUGHTER  OF  A  REGICIDE.          209 

the  threshold  waiting  an  invitation  to  enter.  The 
aged  patriarch  at  last  seized  the  arm  of  General 
Goffe  and  asked: 

"Whom  have  we  here?" 

The  general,  in  the  joy  of  meeting  his  daughter 
from  whom  he  had  been  separated,  had  forgotten 
Robert. 

:'This  is  Robert  Stevens,  your  relative  from 
Virginia." 

"Robert,  I  knew  your  father;  I  heard  he  was 
lost  at  sea." 

"He  was,"  Robert  answered  sadly. 

"And  your  mother?" 

"Has  married  Hugh  Price,  a  cavalier." 

Robert  told  a  part  of  his  story,  ending  with  the 
announcement  that  he  was  forced  to  fly  from  home 
to  escape  prosecution  for  treason.  This  he  told 
with  much  reluctance,  for  it  was  a  poor  recommen 
dation  that  he  was  an  escaped  prisoner. 

When  all  was  known,  Robert  found  an  abun 
dance  of  sympathy,  and  was  told  that  he  might 
make  his  home  with  his  relatives,  until  lie  could 
be  provided  for. 

Then  followed  long  weeks,  months  and  years  of 
the  most  delightful  period  of  his  life.  His  rela 
tives  were  kind.  Their  home  was  attractive;  but 
kind  relatives  and  an  attractive  home  were  not  the 
chief  magnets  which  attracted  him  to  the  spot.  It 
14 


210  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

was  the  joy  of  a  pair  of  soft  brown  eyes  which  held 
him.  Ester  Goffe  was  the  most  interesting  person 
at  Boston.  She  was  a  creature  born  to  inspire  one 
with  love.  She  was  young,  hardly  yet  budded 
into  womanhood,  when  first  he  saw  her.  Day  by 
day  and  week  by  week  she  seemed  to  him  to  grow 
in  beauty  and  goodness. 

The  third  day  after  his  arrival,  General  Goffe 
mysteriously  disappeared.  He  had  been  gone  al 
most  a  week,  when  Eobert  asked  Ester  where  her 
father  was. 

"  He  is  gone,"  she  answered.  "  The  king's  men 
learned  that  he  was  here,  and  were  coming  after 
him,  when  he  escaped." 

"Whither  has  he  gone?" 

"Alas,  I  know  not." 

"What  would  be  his  fate  if  he  should  be 
taken?" 

"  He  would  suffer  as  did  Sir  Henry  Vane.  No 
mercy  will  be  shown  to  a  regicide." 

"You  must  suffer  uneasiness." 

"I  am  in  constant  dread,  though  my  father  is 
brave  and  shrewd,  while  the  king's  officers  are  but 
lazy  fellows  with  dull  wits,  who  do  not  care  to  ex 
ert  themselves,  yet  some  unseen  accident  might 
place  him  in  their  power." 

Then  he  induced  her  to  tell  the  sad  story  of  their 
flight  from  the  wrath  of  an  angry  king,  and  how 


THE  DAUGHTER   OF  A   REGICIDE.  211 

they  had  walked   all   the  way  from   Plymouth  to 
Boston. 

The  year  1675  came,  just  one  century  before 
the  shots  at  Lexington  were  heard  around  the  world. 

Tnere  was  a  restless  feeling  in  all  the  colonies. 
The  governor  of  Virginia  was  a  tyrant.  The  In 
dians  were  becoming  restless,  and  a  general  outbreak 
was  expected. 

Eobert  had  been  informed  by  his  mother  that 
his  friends  had  procured  his  pardon  from  Governor 
Berkele}T,  and  he  was  urged  to  come  home.  Robert 
was  now  twenty-six  years  of  age.  Ester  was  twen 
ty-two,  and  they  were  betrothed.  Their  love  was 
of  that  kind  which  grows  quickly,  but  is  as  eternal 
as  the  heavens.  The  regicide  had  been  home  very 
little  for  the  last  five  years.  He  came  one  night 
to  spend  a  short  time  with  his  daughter.  They 
had  scarce  time  to  whisper  a  few  words  of  affec 
tion,  when  Robert  ran  to  them,  saying: 

"The  king's  men  are  coming." 

In  a  few  moments  a  dozen  cavaliers  with  swords 
and  pistols  rushed  on  General  Goffe. 

"Do  not  surrender;  I  will  defend  you,"  cried 
Robert. 

He  drew  his  sword  and  assailed  the  foremost  of 
the  cavaliers  with  such  implacable  fury  that  they 
fell  back.  General  Goffe  took  advantage  of  the 
moment  to  mount  a  swift  horse  and  fly.  A  few 


212  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

pistol  shots  were  fired  at  him ;  but  he  escaped,  and 
Eobert  conducted  the  half-fainting  Ester  home. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  a  friend  came  to 
inform  Eobert  that  the  king's  men  had  procured  a 
warrant  against  him  for  resisting  his  majesty's 
officers,  and  he  must  fly  for  his  life.  There  was  a 
flutter  of  hushed  excitement.  Everybody  was 
awakened.  Eobert  hurriedly  gathered  up  his 
effects,  which  were  taken  to  a  brigantine  ready  to 
sail  for  Virginia.  There  was  a  silent,  tearful  fare 
well  with  Ester;  vows  were  renewed,  and  he  swore 
when  the  clouds  had  rolled  away  to  come  and  make 
her  his  wife. 

Then  a  last  embrace,  a  hasty  kiss,  and  he  hur 
ried  away  to  the  bay.  Ten  minutes  later  the  house 
was  surrounded  by  soldiers. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LEFT   ALONE. 

Yes,  'twill  be  over  soon, — This  sickly  dream 

Of  life  will  vanish  from  my  brain  ; 
And  deatli  my  wearied  spirit  will  redeem 

From  this  wild  region  of  unvaried  pain. 

—WHITE. 

FOR  fifteen  years  John  Stevens  and  Blanche 
Holmes  had  lived  on  the  Island  of  Desolation,  and 
in  all  that  time  not  a  sign  of  a  sail  had  appeared 
on  the  vast  ocean.  Not  a  sight  of  a  human  being 
had  greeted  their  eyes,  and  they  had  become  some 
what  reconciled  to  the  idea  of  passing  their  lives 
on  this  island.  The  soil  in  the  valley  was  fertile 
and  yielded  abundance  to  moderate  tillage.  John 
studied  the  seasons  and  knew  when  to  plant  to  re 
ceive  the  benefits  of  the  rains.  There  was  no  win 
ter  in  this  tropical  clime,  the  rainy  season  taking 
the  place  of  winter.  The  sails  and  clothing  which 
they  had  brought  from  the  wreck  had  been  hus 
banded  and  made  to  last  as  long  as  possible;  and 
then  Blanche,  who  was  industrious,  spun  and  wove 
cloth  for  both  from  the  fibre  of  a  coarse  weed  like 
213 


214  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

hemp.  Her  wheel  and  loom  were  rude  affairs  con 
structed  by  John  Stevens,  who,  thanks  to  his  early 
experience  as  a  pioneer,  knew  how  to  make  all  use 
ful  household  implements.  When  their  shoes 
were  worn  out  he  tanned  the  skins  of  goats  and 
made  them  moccasins,  and  he  even  wore  a  jacket 
of  goat's  skin. 

For  a  covering  for  his  head,  he  shot  a  fox  and 
dressing  the  skin  fashioned  himself  a  cap.  In 
fact,  the  castaways  lived  as  comfortably  as  the 
pioneers  of  Virginia.  John  had  his  days  of  de 
spondency,  however.  For  fifteen  years  he  had 
climbed  the  hill  and  gazed  beyond  the  reef-girt 
shore  at  the  broad  sea  in  the  vain  hope  of  descry 
ing  a  sail.  He  always  heaved  a  sigh  of  disappoint 
ment  when  he  swept  the  sail  less  ocean  with  his 
glass. 

One  morning  when  he  had  made  his  fruitless  pil 
grimage  to  his  point  of  observation,  he  sat  down 
upon  a  stone  and,  passing  his  hand  over  his  eyes, 
brushed  away  a  tear  which  came  unbidden  there. 

"Alas,  I  am  doomed  to  pass  my  life  here. 
Never  more  can  I  see  iny  home,  friends  or  kin 
dred;  but  on  this  desolate  shore  I  must  end  my 
existence.  Fifteen  years  have  come  and  gone — 
fifteen  long  years  since  I  left  my  home.  My  wife, 
no  doubt,  believing  me  dead,  has  ceased  to  mourn 
for  me.  Perhaps — but  no,  Dorothe  never  believed 


LEFT  ALONE.  215 

in  it.  God  knows  what  they  may  have  suffered. 
I  am  powerless  to  aid  them,  and  to  His  hands  I 
entrust  them." 

Heaving  a  deep  sigh,  lie  resumed  his  painful 
ruminations : 

"It  might  be  worse;  yes,  it  might  be  worse.  I 
might  have  perished  with  the  others,  or  I  might 
not  have  been  spared  a  single  companion,  (rod 
has  given  me  one,  and  with  her  I  could  almost  be 
happy." 

Eeturning  to  his  humble  cabin  he  was  met  by 
Blanche,  who  greeted  him  with  a  sweet  smile. 
Blanche  seemed  to  grow  in  goodness  and  beauty. 
She  was  his  consoler  in  his  hour  of  grief.  When 
he  was  ill  with  a  fever,  she  held  his  burning  head 
in  her  tender  arms  and  soothed  his  pain.  She  ad 
ministered  the  simple  remedies  with  which  they 
were  provided  and  nursed  him  back  to  health. 
Once,  when  he  was  only  half  conscious,  he  thought 
he  felt  her  tears  fall  on  his  face  and  her  soft  warm 
lips  press  his;  but  it  might  have  been  a  dream. 

"You  saw  no  sail  this  morning,  I  know;  but, 
there,  don't  despair,  you  may  yet  go  home,"  she 
said. 

"No,  Blanche,  no;  I  have  given  up  all  hope  of 
ever  going  home.  We  must  end  our  days  here." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  great  blue  eyes  so 
soft  and  tender,  and  sighed: 


216  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

11 1  am  sorry  for  you." 

"Are  you  not  sorry  for  yourself?" 

"No,  no;  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself.  I  am 
all  alone  in  the  world,  and  it  makes  little  differ 
ence  where  I  am."  Her  voice  faltered,  and  he  saw 
that  she  was  almost  choking  with  grief,  and  John 
Stevens,  feeling  that  he  had  been  too  selfish  all 
along,  said: 

"  Blanche,  forgive  me.  I  have  had  no  thought 
for  any  one  save  myself.  I  have  been  cruel  to 
neglect  you  as  I  have." 

"Do  not  blame  yourself,"  she  sighed.  "Your 
anxiety  for  your  wife  and  children  outweighs  every 
other  consideration." 

"But  when  I  think  how  kind  and  how  gentle 
you  have  been  throughout  all  these  years,  how, 
when  the  fever  burned  my  brow,  it  was  your  soft 
hand  which  cooled  it  and  nursed  me  back  to  life 
and  reason,  and  how  I  have  neglected  and  forgot 
ten  you,  I  feel  I  have  been  selfish.  Surely  you 
are  an  angel  whom  God  hath  sent  me  in  these  hours 
of  loneliness." 

His  natural  impulse  was  to  embrace  the  heroic 
woman;  but  he  restrained  such  unholy  emotions, 
and  she,  with  her  heart  overflowing,  sat  weeping 
for  joy. 

In  order  to  change  the  subject,  he  said: 

"  Blanche,  I  have  thought  that  the  time  has  come 


LEFT  ALONE.  217 

to  explore  the  peak  of  Snow-Top."  (Snow-Top 
was  the  name  they  had  given  the  tallest  mountain 
in  the  valley.)  "It  is  the  loftiest  peak  on  the 
island,  and  from  it  we  might  see  other  islands 
and  continents,  and  with  this  glass,  perchance,  we 
might  get  a  view  of  a  distant  sail." 

The  exploration  of  this  mountain  had  been  the 
pet  scheme  for  years.  The  sides  were  steep  and 
the  ascension  difficult.  He  had  spoken  of  it  before, 
and  she  had  approved  of  it. 

"When  do  you  think  of  going?"  she  asked. 

"The  day  after  to-morrow,  if  I  can  get  ready." 

"I  will  go  with  you." 

"No,  no,  Blanche;  the  journey  will  be  too  great 
for  you.  You  cannot  go  that  distance." 

With  a  smile,  she  answered: 

"Surely,  as  I  have  gone  with  you  on  so  many 
perilous  journeys,  you  will  not  deny  me  this." 

"Deny  you,  Blanche?  I  can  deny  you  noth 
ing;  but  I  fear  the  journey  will  overtax  your 
strength." 

"I  can  go  wherever  you  do,"  she  answered. 

He  made  no  further  objection,  and  next  day 
they  prepared  to  scale  those  heights  which  human 
feet  had  never  trod.  John  had  made  for  each  a 
pair  of  stout  shoes,  the  soles  of  which  were  of  a  kind 
of  wood  almost  as  elastic  as  leather  and  the  tops  of 
tanned  goat-skins.  Their  shoes  were  well  suited 


218  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

for  travel  through  the  wilderness  and  in  stony 
countries. 

Knowing  what  a  fatiguing  journey  lay  before 
them,  John  travelled  slowly  and  at  the  end  of  the 
first  day  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where 
he  built  a  fire,  and  they  slept  in  perfect  security. 

The  island  was  free  from  poisonous  reptiles  and 
insects,  and  since  the  foxes  had  been  nearly  ex 
terminated,  there  was  not  a  dangerous  animal  on 
the  island.  When  morning  came,  they  breakfasted 
and  prepared  to  ascend  the  mountain.  At  the  base 
was  a  dense  tangled  growth  of  tropical  trees  through 
which  they  pushed  their  way,  sometimes  being 
compelled  to  cut  their  way  through.  The  tall 
grass,  the  palms,  the  matted  mangroves  and  vines 
made  travel  difficult. 

On  and  on,  up  the  thorny  steep  they  pressed. 
The  palms  and  mangroves  gave  place  to  scrub  oaks, 
and  they  in  turn  to  pine  and  cedar.  As  they  as 
cended,  there  was  a  change  in  soi],  vegetation  and 
climate. 

At  the  base  of  the  mountain  grew  only  the  trees 
and  plants  of  the  tropics.  Three  hours'  upward 
travel  brought  them  into  the  regions  of  the  tem 
perate  zone,  and  they  plucked  wild  strawberries 
such  as  grew  in  New  England.  Pressing  on  up  the 
steep  side,  scaling  cliffs  and  rocks,  which  at  times 
almost  defied  their  skill  and  strength,  the  air  grew 


LEFT  ALOXE.  219 

cooler.  The  vegetation  was  less  rank.  The  grass 
grew  short  and  in  places  there  was  none  at  all. 

"Are  you  tired?"  John  asked. 

"Not  much." 

"Let  us  sit  and  rest." 

"The  sun  has  almost  reached  the  meridian,  and 
we  are  not  half-way  up  the  mountain." 

"Yet  you  must  have  a  few  moments'  rest, 
Blanche." 

They  rested  but  a  moment  and  again  pressed  on. 
They  had  now  reached  a  great  altitude,  and  the 
valley  below  looked  like  a  fairy-land.  They  found 
up  here  a  species  of  mountain  goats  which  they 
had  not  seen  before.  They  were  very  shy  of  the 
intruders  and  went  bounding  away  from  cliff  to 
cliff  and  rock  to  rock  at  a  speed  which  defied  pur 
suit. 

John  shot  one.  The  report  of  his  musket  in  this 
lofty  region  was  so  slight  as  to  be  heard  but  a  short 
distance,  but  the  birds,  soaring  aloft,  screamed 
with  fear  and  went  still  higher  up  the  mountain 
sides. 

Here  they  found  squirrels  more  abundant  than 
in  the  valley.  The  oaks  and  hickory  trees  bore 
an  abundance  of  nuts  for  them.  Further  on  the 
nut-bearing  trees  gave  place  to  grass,  and  they 
found  themselves  on  a  sloping  plain. 

Every  hour  seemed  bringing  them  to  new  and 


220  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

unexplored  regions.  Old  Snow-Top,  as  they 
called  the  mountain,  contained  wonders.  The 
trees  had  dwindled  to  dwarfs,  and  the  animals  de 
generated  in  proportion.  Some  fur-bearing  ani 
mals  were  found  in  these  lofty  regions,  and  the 
eyrie  of  the  eagle  was  in  the  cold,  dark  cliffs. 

There  was  a  perceptible  change  in  the  climate. 
The  clothing  suitable  for  the  valley  was  uncom 
fortably  light  in  this  region. 

"Blanche,  are  you  cold?"  he  asked. 

She,  smiling,  answered: 

"Never  mind  me,  I  can  stand  it." 

"The  air  is  chill." 

"It  always  is  so  in  ascending  a  lofty  mountain." 

"The  ascent  is  more  difficult  than  I  supposed; 
behold  the  cliff  before  us!" 

"I  see  it." 

"It  seems  almost  perpendicular." 

"So  it  does." 

"I  see  no  way  to  scale  it  from  here." 

"Yet,  like  all  other  ills  in  this  world,  the  diffi 
culties  may  disappear  at  our  approach." 

When  they  advanced  toward  the  cliff,  fully  two 
hundred  feet  in  height,  a  narrow  rocky  slope  was 
seen  ascending  on  the  left,  like  a  flight  of  winding 
stairs,  to  the  plateau  above.  Even  with  this  aid 
the  ascent  was  difficult. 

The  rocks  were  rough,  hard   and  sharp  at   the 


LEIT  ALONE. 


221 


edges  and  corners,  yet  they 
climbed  on  and  on.  Each 
succeeding  ledge  to  which 
they  mounted  grew  nar 
rower  until  scarce  room 
for  the  foot  could  be  found. 

When     the      plateau 
was  gained,  it  was  but 
a  bleak,   desolate  plai 
of  four  or  five  acres 
of  uneven  ground, 
swept  by  the  winds     / 
of    eternal    winter 
and    presenting    a 
drear   and    melan 
choly  aspect.  "OUR  JOURNEY  IS  NOT  ONE-HALF  OVER." 

Close     under    a 
stone  they  sat  down  to  partake  of  the   noonday 


222  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

meal,  listening  to  the  shrill  winds  sweeping  over 
the  dreary  waste  and  gazed  at  the  cloud-capped 
peak  above.  The  only  cheerful  object  was  a  noisy 
cataract  thundering  down  the  mountain,  fed  by  the 
melting  snows. 

"Do  you  feel  equal  to  the  task?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Our  journey  is  not  one-half  over." 

"I  know  it." 

"  And  the  last  half  will  be  more  trying  than  the 
first." 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  she  answered  cheerfully. 

To  one  living  in  a  mountainless  country  the 
difficulties  and  fatigues  of  mountain  scaling  is  un 
known.  An  ascent,  which,  to  the  unpractised  cliff 
climber,  might  seem  the  work  of  an  hour,  will  con 
sume  an  entire  day. 

Having  finished  their  meal,  they  resumed  the 
upward  march.  Reaching  a  small  cluster  of  stunted 
and  gnarled  pines,  they  pressed  through  it  and 
emerged  on  a  great,  bleak  hillside,  almost  bare  of 
vegetation.  Only  here  and  there  grew  a  tuft  of 
stunted  grass  or  a  dwarfed  shrub.  The  temperate 
zone  had  given  way  to  the  regions  of  eternal  winter. 
Again  and  again  they  were  compelled  to  pause  for 
breath. 

"Here  it  is,"  John  cried,  almost  gleefully,  as  a 
snow-flake  fell  on  his  arm. 


LEFT  ALOXE.  223 

A  little  further  up,  they  found  snow  drifted  un 
der  a  ledge  of  the  rock,  while  little  rivulets,  run 
ning  from  the  melting  snow,  joined  mountain  tor 
rents  and  cataracts  that  thundered  down  below. 
At  last  the  great  summit  was  gained,  and  they 
paused  to  gaze  afar  on  the  land  and  sea  below. 
John  drew  his  glass  and  swept  the  horizon.  The 
slight  clouds,  from  which  an  occasional  flake  had 
fallen,  cleared  away  at  sunset,  and  they  had  an  ex 
cellent  view  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

"Do  you  see  any  sail?"  she  asked. 

"None." 

"  Then  we  must  be  in  an  ocean  as  unexplored 
and  unknown  as  the  great  south  sea  which  Balboa 
discovered." 

"I  know  not  where  we  are." 

The  sun  set,  dipping  into  the  sea  and  leaving  a 
great,  broad  phosphorescent  light  where  it  disap 
peared,  which  broadened  and  radiated  toward  the 
east  until  it  was  lost  in  gloom. 

"  We  cannot  return  home  to-night,"  said  Blanche. 

"No;  we  will  seek  some  suitable  spot  for  pass 
ing  the  night  further  down  the  nrountain." 

The  mountain  top  was  covered  with  snow,  and 
they  went  down  a  mile  or  more  before  they  found 
the  ground  free  from  snow,  slush,  ice  or  water. 
Here,  on  a  mantle  made  of  goat-skins,  John  in 
duced  the  shivering  Blanche  to  lie  down,  while  he 


224  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

gathered  some  stunted  brush,  small  pines  and  dead 
grass  and  built  a  fire  to  keep  her  warm.  During 
the  night  the  sky  became  obscured,  and  a  cold  rain 
fell.  Their  condition  was  miserable  enough,  for 
they  were  soaked  to  the  skin  and  shivering.  There 
was  no  shelter  near  enough  for  them  to  reach  it, 
and  it  was  too  dark  to  travel. 

"I  am  freezing,"  said  Blanche,  through  her 
chattering  teeth.  John  tried  to  muffle  her  in  the 
robe  of  goat-skin;  but  it  was  wet  and  worse  than 
no  covering.  His  soaked  garments  were  placed 
about  her;  but  she  still  shook  with  cold,  until  he 
became  alarmed  and  held  her  in  his  arms,  endeav 
oring  to  instill  some  warmth  in  her  from  his  own 
body. 

All  things  must  have  an  end,  and  so  did  that 
dreary  night.  Day  dawned  at  last,  and  the  rising 
sun  chased  away  the  clouds,  and  they  saw,  far,  far 
below  them,  the  low,  green  valley  which  they 
called  home.  The  morning  air  was  chill  and  pierc 
ing,  and  John  began  to  fear  for  Blanche;  but  she 
assured  him  that  soon  they  would  reach  lower  land 
and  warmer  temperature.  They  did  not  wait  for 
breakfast,  but  hurried  down  the  mountain  just  as 
soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see.  She  was  weak, 
and  he  offered  to  carry  her  in  his  strong  arms. 

"No,  no;  I  can  walk,"  she  said. 

"But  you  are  so  chilled  and  so  weak." 


LEFT  ALOXE.  225 

"Exercise  will  warm  me  and  give  rne  strength," 
she  answered.  It  did,  and  when  they  reached  the 
valley  she  was  quite  herself  again.  It  was  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  when  they  entered  the  val 
ley,  and  gazing  back  at  old  Snow-Top,  with  his 
towering  summit  piercing  the  skies,  they  thanked 
God  for  their  deliverance.  About  the  snowy  peak 
there  clung  a  rift  of  vapor,  as  if  some  passing  cloud 
had  caught  upon  it  and  torn  off  a  fragment. 

"I  don't  care  to  venture  up  there  again,"  said 
John. 

"Nor  do  I,"  sighed  his  companion.  "So  peace 
ful,  so  sweet  and  so  dear  is  our  little  home,  that  I 
am  almost  content  with  it." 

"I  am,  likewise." 

For  two  or  three  days  no  evil  effects  were  per 
ceivable  from  their  journey  save  a  weariness  on  the 
part  of  Blanche,  which  John  flattered  himself  would 
pass  away.  He  sat  with  her  and  talked  more  than 
had  been  his  custom.  She  seemed  to  grow  better 
in  his  eyes,  for  he  had  seen  how  uncomplaining 
she  was,  and  how  she  nobly  struggled  to  make  his 
burden  lighter.  She  spoke  encouraging  words  of 
Virginia,  told  him  of  his  wife  and  children,  who 
had  been  described  so  often  to  her  that  she  had  a 
faithful  picture  of  them  in  her  mind.  She  would 
say: 

"Your  little  Eebecca  is  now  sixteen  years  of 
15 


226  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

age,  quite  a  young  lady.  She  is  beautiful,  too. 
I  know  she  is  beautiful,  for  she  has  the  dark  eyes 
and  hair  of  her  mother." 

"Blanche,  beauty  is  not  confined  to  black  eyes 
and  hair  alone,"  said  John. 

She  went  on : 

"And  your  little  boy  is  a  man  now,  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  he  is  no  doubt  strong,  brave,  gal 
lant  and  noble.  Surely  you  must  be  proud  of 
such  a  son.  Your  wife  has  grown  more  wise  with 
her  distress,  and  she  still  looks  to  the  ocean  for  the 
return  of  one  for  whom  she  will  wait  until  the  an 
gel  of  death  summons  her  to  meet  him  in  Heaven." 

"Blanche,  Blanche,  how  strangely  you  talk!" 

"  I  fancy  I  can  see  them,  and  they  are  happy  in 
their  little  home.  The  son  supports  his  mother. 
Oh,  they  are  happy!" 

"Blanche,  Blanche,  your  cheeks  are  flushed, 
your  eyes  are  unnaturally  bright;  you  have  a  fever." 

She  laughingly  answered: 

"  It  is  only  a  slight  cold,  the  result  of  our  visit 
to  the  peak  of  old  Snow-Top." 

He  administered  such  simple  remedies  as  they 
had  at  hand,  tucked  her  up  warmly  in  bed  and  sat 
by  her  side  until  she  was  asleep.  Then  he  made 
a  bed  on  the  floor  in  the  adjoining  room,  where 
he  might  be  within  call,  and  lay  down  to  sleep. 
Being  wearied  with  the  toils  of  the  day,  he  was 


LEFT  ALONE.  227 

soon  asleep,  and  it  was  after  midnight  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  cough  from  Blanche's  bed.  It  was 
followed  by  an  exclamation  of  pain. 

In  a  moment  he  was  at  her  side. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Blanche?"  he  asked,  un 
easily. 

"I  have  a  pain  in  my  side." 

He  stooped  over  her,  put  his  hand  on  her  face 
and  was  startled  to  find  it  so  dry  and  hot.  Groping 
about  he  found  a  rude  lamp,  which  he  had  fash 
ioned  from  an  old  pewter  pot  brought  from  the 
wreck.  Within  the  lamp  was  a  wick  made  from 
the  lint  of  wild  hemp,  fed  with  goat's  fat.  Seiz 
ing  his  flint  and  steel  he  kindled  a  light  and  found 
Blanche  in  a  raging  fever. 

"Blanche,  Blanche,  you  are  ill!"  said  John. 

"I  am  so  hot,  I  burn  with  thirst,"  she  answered. 

"You  shall  have  water."  There  was  a  spring 
of  clear,  cold  water  flowing  down  from  the  moun 
tain,  and  John  took  an  earthen  jar,  and  ran  to 
fill  it. 

"It  is  so  good  of  you,"  the  sick  woman  sighed, 
as  he  moistened  her  fevered  lips. 

John  Stevens  was  now  very  anxious  about  her, 
for  she  was  growing  rapidly  worse.  He  knew  a 
little  about  medicine  and  had  brought  some  reme 
dies  from  the  ship;  but  the  disease  which  had  fas 
tened  itself  on  Blanche  defied  his  skill.  She  was 


228  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

at  times  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing  which  almost 
took  away  her  breath.  When  he  had  exhausted  all 
his  efforts,  she  said  sweetly: 

"  You  can  do  no  more." 

"Blanche,  Blanche,"  he  almost  sobbed,  "Heav 
en  knows  I  would  give  my  life  to  spare  you  one 
pang." 

"I  know  it,"  she  answered. 

"What  will  you  have  me  do?" 

"Sit  by  my  side." 

He  brought  a  stool  and  sat  by  her  bedside. 

"  Hold  my  hand,  I  have  such  frightful  dreams, 
and  I  want  you  near." 

He  took  the  little  fevered  hand  in  his  own  and 
for  hours  sat  by  her  side. 

Morning  came  and  went,  came  and  went  again, 
and  she  grew  worse. 

John  never  left  her  save  to  bring  cold  water  to 
slake  her  burning  thirst,  or  prepare  some  remedy 
to  check  the  ravages  of  the  fever. 

"  Oh,  God !  to  be  left  alone-  —to  be  left  all  alone! 
Can  I  endure  it?"  he  sighed.  When  he  was  at 
her  side,  he  said : 

"  It  wras  the  journey  to  Snow-Top.  It  was  too 
much  for  you,  Blanche,  I  am  to  blame  for  this." 

"No,  no,  blame  not  yourself.  I  it  was  who  in 
sisted  on  going." 

She  rapidly  grew  worse,  and  John  Stevens  saw 


LEFT  ALONE.  229 

that  she  must  die.  Occasionally  she  fell  asleep, 
and  then  he  thought  how  beautiful  she  was.  Once 
she  murmured  his  name  and  sweetly  smiled.  She 
awoke  and  was  very  weak.  Raising  her  eyes,  she 
saw  him  at  her  side,  and  with  that  same  happy 
smile  on  her  face,  she  said: 

"  Oh,  I  had  such  a  delightful  dream.  It  may 
be  wicked ;  but  it  was  delightful.  I  dreamed  that 
I  was  she." 

"Who?" 

"  Your  wife " 

"Blanche!" 

"  Kiss  me,  brother — I  am  going — rapidly  going. " 

He  entwined  his  arms  about  the  being  who,  for 
fifteen  years,  had  been  his  only  companion,  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

"Blanche,  Blanche,  you  must  not  die;  for  my 
sake  live." 

"No,  no;  I  will  soon  begone;  then  you  will  be 
all  alone.  Don't  leave  me  until  all  is  over." 

"I  shall  not,  Blanche;  I  shall  not,"  cried  Ste 
vens,  holding  her  tightly  clasped  in  his  strong 
arms. 

"It  may  be  wrong — but  we  have  been  here  so 
long — meet  me  in  heaven,  brother." 

"God  grant  that  I  may,  poor  girl." 

"Pray  with  me." 

He  knelt  at  her  side,  and  the  lips  of  both  moved 


230  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

in  pra}-er.  When  he  rose,  she  laid  her  little  hand, 
all  purple  with  fever,  in  his  and  said: 

"Brother — when  I  am  gone,  bury  me  in  that 
beautiful  valley  near  the  spring,  where  the  wild 
flowers  grow  close  by  the  white  stone.  On  the 
stone  write:  'Here  lies  my  beloved  sister,  Blanche 
Holmes.'" 

An  hour  later  John  Stevens  knelt  beside  a  corpse. 
The  gentle  spirit  had  flown. 

Midnight — and  the  castaway,  despairing,  half- 
crazed  with  grief,  still  knelt  by  the  dead  body, 
tearing  his  hair,  and  groaning: 

"Alone— left  alone!" 


CHAPTER   XIY. 

THE    TREASURE    SHIP. 

"O  gentle  wind  ('tis  thus  she  sings) 

That  blowest  to  the  west, 
Oh,  couldst  thou  waft  me  on  thy  wings 

To  the  laud  that  I  love  best, 
How  swiftly  o'er  the  ocean's  foam, 
Like  a  sea-bird  I  would  sail. " 

— PRINGLE. 

WHEN  the  heart  is  full,  there  seems  some  relief 
in  pouring  out  the  story  of  woe  into  a  sympathetic 
ear;  but  when  one  is  alone,  with  no  human  being 
to  listen  or  sympathize,  grief  is  a  hundred-fold 
greater. 

Day  dawned  and  found  John  Stevens  still  kneel 
ing  by  the  side  of  the  cold  form  of  the  only  being 
who  had  shared  his  unhappy  lot.  How  seldom 
we  realize  the  worth  of  companions  or  friends  until 
they  are  forever  gone,  and  then,  as  if  to  mock  our 
grief,  each  kind  act,  each  little  delicate  attention 
seems  to  start  out  as  if  emblazoned  on  stone  before 
us.  At  last  the  broken-hearted  castaway  rose  and 
with  folded  arms  gazed  on  the  dead  face,  still  beau 
tiful  and  holy  even  in  death. 
331 


232  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Blanche,  Blanche,  must  I  give  you  up,  you 
who  have  so  long  cheered  my  lonely  life?  Must  I 
never  listen  to  the  sweet  music  of  your  voice  again?" 

John  roused  himself  at  last  from  the  feeling  of 
despair  and,  taking  the  best  boards  left  from  the 
wreck,  constructed  a  neat  coffin.  He  dug  the  grave 
at  the  white  stone  as  she  had  directed  and  laid  her 
to  rest.  No  one  but  God  listened  to  him  as  he 
read  the  solemn  and  impressive  burial  service,  ac 
cording  to  the  established  church.  No  one  but 
God  saw  those  tears  flow  in  silence  as  he  gazed  for 
the  last  time  on  her  face.  Then,  fastening  down 
the  lid,  he  covered  the  coffin  over  with  boards  and 
began  slowly  and  mournfully  shovelling  the  earth 
upon  it.  He  heaped  up  the  earth  and  placed  the 
soft  green  sod  over  the  mound.  Then  he  cut  the 
inscription  on  the  stone  as  she  had  requested  at  the 
head  of  the  grave,  adding: 

"Sweet  sister,  rest  in  peace,  until  Christ  comes 
to  claim  his  own,  when  there  will  be  a  crown  given 
you  which  outshines  the  sun."  To  go  about  his 
daily  routine  of  life,  to  feel  that  heavy  aching  load 
on  his  heart  crushing  and  consuming  him,  made 
his  existence  almost  unbearable. 

He  lost  all  interest  in  the  little  field,  the  tame 
goats  and  birds,  and  for  two  or  three  days  even 
neglected  to  take  food  himself.  An  appalling  si 
lence  had  fallen  upon  the  island.  He  seemed  to 


THE  TREASURE  SHIP.  233 

still  hear  her  voice  in  the  house  and  about  it,  and 
when  he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep,  after  being  ut 
terly  exhausted,  he  saw  her  sweet  face  bending 
over  him  and  felt  the  sunshine  of  her  smile  on  him. 
It  was  so  hard  to  realize  that  she  was  gone,  and  he 
could  scarcely  believe  that  he  would  not  find  her 
down  on  the  beach  gathering  shells,  as  he  had  so 
often  seen  her. 

Frequently  when  alone  in  the  cabin  he  would 
start,  half  expecting  to  see  her  enter  with  her  cheer 
ing  smile;  but  she  was  gone  forever;  her  sweet 
smiles  and  cheering  voice  would  no  more  be  heard 
on  earth. 

It  required  long  months  before  he  could  settle 
down  to  that  life  of  loneliness.  Hitherto  he  had 
not  lived  the  life  of  a  Crusoe  or  Selkirk;  but  now 
he  was  destined  to  know  what  real  solitude  was. 
John  Stevens  at  last  began  to  take  some  interest  in 
his  domestic  affairs.  He  sadly  missed  the  thou 
sand  little  attentions  which  feminine  instincts  sug 
gested  for  his  comfort;  but  anon  he  became  ac 
customed  to  being  alone.  He  grew  morose  and 
melancholy,  even  wicked,  for  at  times  he  blamed 
Providence,  first  for  casting  him  away  on  this 
lonely  island,  and  lastly  for  taking  from  him  the 
companion  he  had  failed  to  appreciate,  until  he 
felt  her  loss;  but  soon  he  turned  to  God  and  prayed 
for  light. 


234  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

He  read  the  Bible  and  from  this  living  fountain 
of  consolation  drank  deep  draughts  of  that  which, 
to  his  starving  soul,  was  the  elixir  of  life.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  in  the  first  ebullition  of  his  grief, 
John  Stevens  seemed  to  forget  his  wife  and  chil 
dren.  So  long  had  he  been  from  them,  that  they 
had  lost  their  place  in  his  thoughts.  Time,  the 
great  healer  of  all  wounds,  the  great  reconciler  to 
all  fates,  the  great  arbitrator  of  all  disputes,  had 
almost  lost  to  him  those  tenderest  ties  which  had 
lacerated  his  poor  heart. 

To  the  fatalist,  John  Stevens  would  seem  to  be 
one  of  those  unfortunate  beings  doomed  to  be  made 
the  sport  of  a  capricious  fortune.  His  domestic 
relations  in  Virginia  were  a  strange  intermixture  of 
good  and  bad.  His  business  had  been  decidedly 
prosperous,  he  had  married  into  a  respectable  fam 
ily,  and  his  wife  was  popular.  His  children  were 
beautiful  and  healthy;  but  his  wife  was  extrava 
gant  and  foolish  and  had  swept  away  his  fortune 
faster  than  he  could  accumulate  it.  Then  his  voy 
age  and  shipwreck  seemed  the  hand  of  fate.  His 
father  had  been  a  sailor  by  profession  and  had 
never  been  shipwrecked,  while  he,  on  his  first  voy 
age,  was  cast  away  upon  an  unknown  island. 
Fate  gave  him  at  first  a  companion  and,  just  as  he 
began  to  appreciate  her,  snatched  her  away. 

At  last  he  became  reconciled  even  to  live  and 


THE   TREASURE  SHIP.  235 

die  alone  on  that  island — to  die  without  a  friend 
to  close  his  eyes,  or  to  soothe  his  pillow.  Horri 
ble  as  the  fate  might  seem,  he  was  reconciled.  No 
human  hand  would  give  him  Christian  burial,  and 
the  vultures  which  soared  about  the  island  might 
pluck  out  his  eyes  even  before  life  was  extinct. 
With  this  dread  on  his  mind,  he  shot  the  vultures 
whenever  he  saw  them,  and  almost  drove  them  from 
the  island. 

Three  years  had  lapsed  since  poor  Blanche  had 
been  laid  in  her  grave,  and  John  was  morose,  si 
lent  and  moody,  but  reconciled.  It  was  eighteen 
years  since  he  Lad  been  cast  away,  and  he  had 
about  abandoned  all  thought  of  again  seeing  any 
other  land  save  this. 

Among  other  things  saved  from  the  wreck  was 
a  quantity  of  tobacco  seed,  and,  as  tobacco  was 
then  thought  to  be  an  indispensable  article,  he 
planted  some  and  grew  his  own.  He  fashioned 
pipes  from  the  roots  of  trees,  as  the  Indians  did, 
and  his  pipe  became  his  greatest  solace  in  solitude. 

One  night,  a  little  more  than  three  years  after 
he  had  been  left  alone,  he  was  lying  on  his  well- 
worn  mattress,  smoking  his  evening  pipe,  when 
there  came  on  the  air  far  out  to  sea  a  heavy 
"Boom!" 

The  trumpet  of  doom  would  not  have  astonished 
him  more,  At  first  he  could  scarcely  believe  his 


236  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

ears.  Starting  up,  he  sat  on  trie  side  of  his  bed 
listening. 

"Boom!" 

A  second  report,  more  heavy  than  the  first,  shook 
the  air. 

"God  in  heaven!  can  it  be  cannon?"  cried  Ste 
vens.  He  leaped  to  his  feet,  pulled  on  his  rude 
shoes  and  seized  his  musket. 

"Boom!  Boom!   Boom!" 

Three  more  shots  from  the  sea  rang  on  the  air, 
and  there  could  now  be  no  doubt  that  a  ship 
was  near  the  island.  The  hope  which  suddenly 
started  up  in  his  heart  almost  overcame  him,  and 
he  clung  to  the  door  for  support. 

Only  for  an  instant  did  he  linger  thus,  then  he 
rushed  to  the  headland  from  whence  his  tattered 
flag  had  floated  all  these  years.  The  moon  was 
shining  brightly  from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  his 
vision  swept  the  ocean  far  beyond  the  dangerous 
reefs  which  formed  a  natural  guard  about  the  isl 
and.  There  he  saw  a  sight  calculated  to  startle 
him.  A  large  Spanish  galleon  was  coming  directly 
toward  the  island,  pursued  by  a  vessel  which  from 
the  first  he  surmised  to  be  a  pirate.  Even  as  he 
looked,  he  saw  the  flash  of  a  gun  and  imagined  he 
coud  hear  the  crash  of  the  iron  ball  striking  into  the 
side  of  the  fugitive  ship.  He  heard  the  cry  of 
dread  from  the  poor  wretches  on  board,  as  the  pirate 


THE  TREASURE  SHIP.  237 

drew  nearer.  On  the  still  evening  air  came  wild 
shouts  of  the  buccaneers  as  they  fired  shot  after 
shot  at  the  prize. 

John  Stevens  was  greatly  excited.  Here  was  an 
opportunity  to  escape  or  be  slain,  either  preferable 
to  living  on  this  terrible  island  alone. 

The  Spanish  galleon  was  being  driven  directly 
through  the  only  gap  in  the  reefs  to  the  island. 
Like  a  bird  chased  by  a  vulture  she  sought  any 
shelter.  She  returned  the  fire  as  well  as  she  could ; 
but  was  no  match  for  the  well-equipped  and  daring 
pirate. 

John's  whole  sympathies  were  with  the  unfortu 
nate  Spaniards.  Their  vessel  evidently  drew  con 
siderable  water,  for  entering  the  gap  in  the  reef,  the 
tide  being  low,  it  stranded.  The  pirate,  being  much 
lighter  draft,  came  nearer  and  poured  in  her  vol 
leys  thick  and  fast.  They  were  so  near  to  the 
headland  that  John  Stevens,  a  spellbound  spec 
tator,  heard  the  iron  balls  and  shot  tearing  into  her 
timbers.  With  his  glass  he  could  even  see  her 
deck  strewn  with  dead  and  dying. 

The  foremast  of  the  galleon  was  cut  through  and 
fell,  and  the  ship's  rudder  was  shot  away.  The 
Spaniards,  evidently  bewildered,  lowered  boats, 
abandoned  the  galleon  and  pulled  toward  a  rocky 
promontory  two  miles  to  the  south. 

Their  enemies  saw  them  and,   manning  boats, 


238  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

headed  them  off,  killing  or  capturing  every  one.  The 
captured  men  were  taken  aboard  the  victorious  ship. 

While  these  startling  scenes  were  being  enacted, 
a  great  change  had  come  over  the  sky.  The  tide 
began  to  rise  and  floated  the  galleon  clear  of  the 
sand,  and  it  drifted  into  the  little  bay  not  a  mile 
from  John's  house.  The  sky  was  obscured  with 
clouds  and  one  of  those  tropical  hurricanes  called 
squalls  swept  over  the  island  and  sea.  It  struck 
the  pirate  broadside,  and  John  Stevens  last  saw  the 
vessel  amid  a  mountain  of  waves  and  spray  strug 
gling  to  right  itself.  It  probably  went  down,  as 
he  never  saw  or  heard  of  it  more. 

For  hours  the  amazed  castaway  stood  in  the  pelt 
ing  rain  and  howling  wind,  with  the  roaring  sea 
below  him.  Was  it  all  a  dream,  or  was  this  only 
another  freak  of  capricious  fate,  which  doomed  him 
to  eternal  misery.  The  storm  roared  and  the  hun 
gry  sea  swallowed  up  the  pirate. 

Why  could  not  one  have  been  spared?  Even  a 
pirate  would  have  made  a  companion;  but  fate 
had  roused  his  hopes  only  to  dash  them  to  the 
earth  again. 

It  was  pitch  dark  save  when  a  flash  of  lightning 
illuminated  the  heavens.  John  Stevens  turned 
slowly  about  to  retrace  his  steps  homeward,  half 
believing  it  was  some  terrible  dream  which  had 
brought  him  from  his  bed  into  the  pelting  storm, 


THE  TREASURE  SHIP.  239 

when  by  the  aid  of  a  flash  of  lightning  he  saw 
the  Spanish  galleon,  which  had  been  again  stranded 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  beach.  The  single 
flash  of  lightning  revealed  only  her  deck  and  rig 
ging;  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen  on  board  the  ship; 
but  the  sight  of  the  vessel  roused  the  castaway. 
In  eighteen  years  this  had  been  the  only  sign  of 
civilization  which  had  greeted  his  vision,  and  he 
was  nearly  frantic  with  delight. 

Some  one  might  be  on  board.  Some  skulkers 
from  the  cannon-balls  of  the  pirates  might  have 
sought  safety  in  the  hold  of  the  galleon,  and  he 
would  find  them.  His  heart  was  full  to  overflow 
ing.  He  even  began  to  hope  that  the  phip  could 
be  gotten  off  the  bar,  and  could  make  a  voyage  to 
some  land  of  civilization.  Though  the  ship  was 
between  the  dangerous  reefs  and  the  sea,  partially 
protected  by  a  small  land-locked  bay,  yet  the  surf 
was  so  high  that  it  was  madness  to  think  of  reach 
ing  the  vessel  that  night.  He  built  a  fire  on  shore 
and  all  night  long  heaped  on  wood  in  the  hope  of 
attracting  attention  of  those  on  board. 

Morning  dawned,  and  lie  saw  the  galleon  with 
her  head  high  in  the  air  and  her  stern  low  in  the 
sand  and  water.  The  tide  had  gone  out,  and  not 
more  than  one  hundred  yards  of  water  lay  between 
him  and  the  ship.  John  stripped  off  his  clothes 
and  swarn  to  the  wreck. 


240  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

After  no  little  difficulty  lie  climbed  up  the  miz- 
zen  chains. 

A  silence  of  death  reigned  over  the  ship,  and 
when  he  had  gained  the  deck  a  terrible  sight  met 
his  view.  Five  men  and  one  boy,  the  victims  of 
the  pirate's  guns,  lay  dead  on  the  deck,  which  was 
badly  splintered  with  balls  and  shot. 

The  ship  was  wonderfully  well  preserved,  the 
chief  damage  it  received  being  from  the  cannon  of 
the  enemy. 

John  called  again  and  again  but  no  voice  re 
sponded.  The  grim  silence  of  death  was  about 
the  ship.  He  found  a  boat  in  fair  condition,  low 
ered  it  and,  putting  the  dead  Spaniards  into  it, 
pulled  ashore,  where  he  gave  the  dead  a  decent 
burial  on  the  sands,  too  high  up  for  the  tide  to 
reach  them. 

Having  accomplished  this  sad  rite,  he  cried  from 
the  fulness  of  his  soul : 

"Oh,  that  there  had  been  but  one,  only  one 
saved,  with  whom  I  might  converse!" 

John  Stevens,  however,  was  a  practical  sort  of  a 
fellow,  and,  instead  of  repining  over  his  sad  fate, 
he  determined  to  bring  away  everything  valuable 
on  board.  Consequently  he  launched  the  boat, 
pulled  to  the  wreck  and  went  aboard.  Had  he 
been  able  to  get  the  ship  afloat,  a  carpenter  might 
have  repaired  it  so  that  a  voyage  could  have  been 


THE  TREASURE  SHIP.  241 

made;  but  the  strength  and  skill  of  a  hundred  men 
could  not  have  moved  it  from  the  sands  in  which 
it  was  so  deeply  imbedded.  The  vessel  had  been 
steered  through  the  reefs  and  almost  into  the  bay 
when  deserted.  John  loaded  his  boat  with  muskets, 
several  chests  and  casks,  which  contained  food  and 
wine.  There  was  also  a  powder-horn,  some  kegs 
of  powder,  a  fire  shovel,  tongs,  two  brass  kettles, 
a  copper  pot  for  chocolate,  and  a  gridiron.  These 
and  some  loose  clothes  belonging  to  the  sailors 
formed  the  first  cargo  taken  ashore. 

Next  he  brought  off  several  barrels  of  flour,  a 
cask  of  liquor  and  some  tools,  axes,  spades,  shovels 
and  saws.  Every  implement  that  might  be  useful 
to  him  was  taken  ashore  and  stowed  away.  Then 
he  began  to  search  the  lower  part. 

He  had  been  for  a  week  working  on  the  wreck 
carrying  off  every  conceivable  object  which  might 
be  of  any  possible  use.  He  found  the  ship's  books; 
but,  owing  to  his  ignorance  of  Spanish,  he  was 
unable  to  read  them. 

The  name  on  the  stern  of  the  vessel  was  St.  Jago, 
therefore  he  reasoned  that  it  must  be  a  "West  In 
dian  vessel.  How  the  idea  entered  his  mind,  Ste 
vens  never  knew.  It  came  suddenly,  as  an  inspi 
ration,  that  the  galleon  must  be  a  Spanish  treasure 
ship.  One  day,  while  in  the  captain's  cabin,  he 
found  a  narrow  door  opening  from  it.  It  was  se- 
16 


242  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

curely  locked,  and  though  he  searched  everywhere 
for  keys  and  found  many,  none  would  fit  the  lock. 
At  last  he  seized  an  iron  crowbar,  with  which  he 
forced  the  door  off  its  hinges.  Before  him  was  a 
curious  sort  of  compartment  like  a  vault,  the  in 
side  of  which  was  lined  with  sheet  iron.  There  lay 
before  him  several  large,  long  boxes  made  of  strong 
wood.  He  wondered  what  they  contained.  He 
cleared  away  every  obstacle  to  the  nearest  box,  and 
saw  a  lock  and  padlock  and  a  handle  at  each  end, 
all  carved  as  things  were  carved  in  that  age,  when 
art  rendered  the  commonest  metals  precious.  John 
seized  the  handles  arid  strove  to  lift  the  box;  but 
it  was  impossible. 

"What  can  it  contain,  that  is  so  heavy?"  he 
thought.  He  sought  to  open  it ;  but  lock  and  pad 
lock  were  closed,  and  these  faithful  guardians 
seemed  unwilling  to  surrender  their  trust.  Stevens 
inserted  the  sharp  end  of  the  crowbar  between  the 
box  and  the  lid  and,  bearing  down  with  all  his 
strength,  burst  open  the  fastenings.  Hinges  and 
lock  yielded  in  their  turn,  holding  in  their  grasp 
fragments  of  the  boards,  and  with  a  crash  he  threw 
off  the  lid,  and  all  was  open. 

John  Stevens  found  a  tanned  fawn-skin  spread 
as  a  covering  over  the  contents  and  he  tore  it  off. 
He  started  up  with  a  yell  and  closed  his  eyes  in- 


THE   TREASURE  SHIP.  243 

voluntarily.  Then  he  opened  them  and  stood  mo 
tionless  with  amazement. 

Three  compartments  divided  the  coffer.  In  the 
first  blazed  piles  of  golden  coin.  In  the  second 
bars  of  unpolished  gold  were  ranged.  In  the  third 
lay  countless  fortunes  of  diamonds,  pearls  and 
rubies,  into  which  he  dived  his  hands  as  eagerly 
as  a  starving  man  would  plunge  into  food. 

After  having  touched,  felt  and  examined  these 
treasures,  John  Stevens  rushed  through  the  ship 
like  a  madman.  He  leaped  upon  the  deck,  from 
whence  he  could  behold  the  sea.  He  was  alone. 
Alone  with  this  countless — this  unheard-of  wealth. 
Was  he  awake,  or  was  it  but  a  dream?  Before 
him  lay  the  treasures  torn  from  Mexico,  Darien 
and  Peru.  They  were  his — he  was  alone. 

Alas,  he  was  alone!  What  use  would  those 
millions  be  to  him  on  this  island?  The  reaction 
came,  and,  falling  on  his  knees,  he  cried: 

"O  God,  why  is  such  a  fate  mine?" 

Hours  afterward  he  recovered  enough  to  remove 
the  gold  and  jewels  from  the  treasure  ship  to  his 
home  on  the  island.  With  more  jewels  than  a 
king,  he  lived  the  lonely  life  of  a  hermit  and  a 
pauper,  dreading  to  die,  lest  the  vultures  pluck  out 
his  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    ANGEL   OF   DELIVERANCE. 

Strange  that  when  nature  loved  to  trace 

As  if  for  God  a  dwelling  place, 

And  every  charm  of  grace  hath  mixed 

Within  the  paradise  she  fixed, 

There  man,  enamoured  of  distress, 

Should  mar  it  into  wilderness. 

— BYRON. 

ON  the  restoration  of  monarchy  in  England,  in 
1660,  the  Connecticut  colonists  entertained  serious 
fears  regarding  the  future.  Their  sturdy  republi 
canism  and  independent  action  in  the  past  might 
be  mortally  offensive  to  the  new  monarch.  The 
general  assembly  of  Connecticut,  therefore,  re 
solved  to  make  a  formal  acknowledgment  of  their 
alliance  to  the  crown  and  ask  the  king  for  a  char 
ter.  A  petition  was  accordingly  framed  and  signed 
in  May,  1661,  and  Governor  John  Winthrop  bore 
it  to  England.  He  was  a  son  of  Winthrop  of 
Massachusetts,  and  was  a  man  of  rare  attainments 
and  courtly  manners.  He  was  then  about  forty- 
five  years  of  age. 

Winthrop  was  but  coolly  received  at  first,  for 
244  * 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE.  245 

he  and  his  people  were  regarded  as  enemies  of  the 
crown.  But  he  persevered,  and  the  good-natured 
monarch  at  last  chatted  freely  with  him  about 
America,  its  soil,  productions,  the  Indians  and  the 
settlers,  yet  he  hesitated  to  promise  a  charter. 
Winthrop,  it  is  said,  finally  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  gold  ring  of  great  value,  which  the  king's  father 
had  given  to  the  governor's  grandfather,  and  pre 
sented  it  to  his  majesty  with  a  request  that  he 
would  accept  it  as  a  memorial  of  the  unfortunate 
monarch  and  a  token  of  Winthrop' s  esteem  for  and 
royalty  to  King  Charles,  before  whom  he  stood  as 
a  faithful  and  loving  subject.  The  king's  heart 
was  touched.  Turning  to  Lord  Clarendon,  who 
was  present,  the  monarch  asked: 

"Do  you  advise  me  to  grant  a  charter  to  this 
good  gentleman  and  his  people?" 

"I  do,  sire,"  Clarendon  answered. 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  Charles,  and  he  dis 
missed  Winthrop  with  a  royal  blessing. 

The  charter  was  issued  on  the  first  of  May,  1662. 
It  confirmed  the  popular  constitution  of  the  colony, 
and  contained  more  liberal  provisions  than  any  yet 
issued  by  royal  hands.  It  defined  the  boundaries 
so  as  to  include  New  Haven  colony  and  a  part  of 
Rhode  Island  on  the  east,  and  westward  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  In  1665,  the  New  Haven  colony 
reluctantly  gave  its  consent  to  the  union;  but  the 


246  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

boundary  between  Connecticut  and  Khode  Island 
remained  a  subject  of  dispute  for  more  than  sixty 
years.  That  old  charter,  written  on  parchment, 
is  still  among  the  archives  in  the  Connecticut  State 
Department. 

While  King  Philip's  war  raged  all  about  them, 
the  colonists  of  Connecticut  did  not  suffer  much 
from  hostile  Indians,  save  in  some  remote  settle 
ments  high  up  the  river.  They  furnished  their 
full  measure  of  men  and  supplies,  and  the  soldiers 
bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  that  contest  between  the 
races  for  supremacy;  but  while  they  were  freed 
from  dangers  and  annoyances  of  war  with  the  In 
dians,  they  were  disturbed  by  the  petty  tyranny  of 
Governor  Andros,  who,  as  governor  of  New  York, 
claimed  jurisdiction  as  far  east  as  the  Connecticut 
Kiver.  In  1675,  he  went  to  the  mouth  of  that 
stream  with  a  small  naval  force  to  assert  his  au 
thority. 

Captain  Bull,  the  commander  of  a  small  fort  at 
Saybrook,  permitted  him  to  land;  but  when  he 
began  to  read  his  commission,  he  ordered  him  to 
be  silent.  The  cowardly  Andros  was  forced  to 
yield  to  the  commander's  bold  spirit  and,  in  a  tow 
ering  passion,  returned  to  New  York,  hurling  the 
most  bitter  anathemas  against  Connecticut  and  Cap 
tain  Bull. 

It  was  more  than  a  dozen  years  after  this  event 


THE  ANGEL   OF  DELIVERANCE.  247 

before  anything  happened  to  disturb  the  public  re 
pose  of  Connecticut;  but  as  that  event  belongs  to 
another  period,  we  will  omit  it  for  the  present. 

Ehode  Island  was  favored  with  a  charter  from 
Parliament,  granted  in  1644  to  Roger  Williams. 
The  charter  was  very  liberal,  and  in  religion  and 
politics  the  people  were  absolutely  free.  The  gen 
eral  assembly,  in  a  code  of  laws  adopted  in  164.7, 
declared  that  "all  men  might  walk  as  their  con 
science  permitted  them — every  one  in  the  name  of 
his  God."  Almost  every  religious  belief  might 
have  been  encountered  there;  "so  if  a  man  lost  his 
religious  opinions,  he  might  have  been  sure  to  find 
them  in  some  village  in  Rhode  Island."  Society 
was  kept  in  a  continual  healthful  agitation,  and 
though  the  disputes  were  sometimes  stormy,  they 
never  were  brutal.  There  was  a  remarkable  pro 
priety  of  conduct  on  all  occasions,  and  the  political 
agitations  brought  to  the  surface  the  best  men  in 
the  colony  to  administer  public  affairs. 

Two  years  after  the  overthrow  and  execution  of 
Charles  I.,  1651,  the  executive  council  of  state  in 
England  granted  to  William  Coddington  a  commis 
sion  for  governing  the  islands  within  the  limits  of 
the  Rhode  Island  charter.  This  threatened  a  dis 
memberment  of  the  little  empire  and  its  absorption 
by  neighboring  colonies.  The  people  were  greatly 
alarmed.  Roger  Williams  and  John  Clarke  has- 


248  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

tened  to  England,  and  with  the  assistance  of  Sir 
Henry  Vane,  the  "  sheet  anchor  of  Rhode  Island, 
the  noble  and  true  friend  to  an  outcast  and  despised 
people,"  the  commission  was  recalled,  and  the 
charter  given  by  parliament  was  confirmed  in  Octo 
ber,  1652. 

On  the  restoration  of  monarchy,  1660,  the  in 
habitants  sent  to  Charles  II.  an  address,  in  which 
they  declared  their  loyalty  and  begged  his  protec 
tion.  This  was  followed  by  a  petition  for  a  new 
charter.  The  prayer  was  granted,  and  in  July, 
1663,  the  king  issued  a  patent  highly  democratic 
in  its  general  features  and  similar  in  every  respect 
to  the  one  granted  to  Connecticut.  Benedict  Ar 
nold  was  chosen  the  first  governor  under  the  royal 
charter,  and  it  continued  to  be  the  supreme  law 
of  the  land  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  years. 

Slowly  advancing  with  the  other  colonies,  if  she 
did  not  even  keep  abreast  of  them,  was  the  colony 
of  New  Jersey,  from  the  time  it  first  became  a  per 
manent  political  organization  as  a  British  colony, 
with  a  governor  and  council.  Elizabethtown, 
which  consisted  only  of  a  cluster  of  half  a  dozen 
houses,  was  made  the  capital.  Agents  went  to 
New  England  to  invite  settlers,  and  a  company 
from  New  Haven  were  soon  settled  on  the  banks 
of  the  Passaic.  Others  followed,  and  when,  in 
1668,  the  first  legislative  assembly  met  at  Eliza- 


8S  Si 


NORTH  AMERICA 

PERIOD  1643  TO  1680 


DRAWN   TOR 

A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON 


r 


-\o 


A3.IFOMA  HTfltW 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE.  249 

betlitown,  it  was  largely  made  up  of  emigrants 
from  New  England.  Tims  we  see  how  early  in 
the  history  of  our  country,  the  restless  tide  moved 
westward.  The  fertility  of  the  soil  of  New  Jersey, 
the  salubrity  of  the  climate,  the  exemption  from 
fear  of  hostile  Indians,  and  other  manifest  advan 
tages  caused  a  rapid  increase  in  the  population  and 
prosperity  of  the  province,  and  nothing  disturbed 
the  general  serenity  of  society  there  until  in  16TO, 
when  specified  quitrents  of  a  half-penny  per  acre 
were  demanded.  The  people  murmured.  Some 
of  them  had  bought  their  lands  of  the  Indians  be 
fore  the  proprietary  government  was  established, 
and  they  refused  to  pay  the  rent,  not  on  account 
of  its  amount,  but  because  it  was  an  unjust  tax, 
levied  without  their  consent. 

For  almost  two  years  they  disputed  over  the 
rents,  and  kept  the  entire  province  in  a  state  of 
confusion.  The  whole  people  combined  in  resist 
ance  to  the  payment  of  the  tax,  and  in  May,  1672, 
the  disaffected  colonists  sent  deputies  to  the  popu 
lar  assembly  which  met  at  Elizabethtown.  That 
body  compelled  Philip  Carteret,  the  lawful  gov 
ernor,  to  vacate  his  chair  and  leave  the  province, 
and  chose  a  weak  and  inefficient  man  in  his  place. 
Carteret  went  to  England  for  more  authority,  and 
while  the  proprietors  were  making  preparations  to 
recover  the  province  by  force  of  arms,  in  August, 


250  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

1673,  New  Jersey  and  all  the  rest  of  the  territory 
in  America  claimed  by  the  Duke  of  York  suddenly 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Dutch,  who  were  then  at 
war  with  England. 

When,  fifteen  months  later,  New  York  was  re 
stored  to  the  English,  Carteret  had  a  part  of  his 
authority  restored  to  him;  but  sufficient  was  re 
served  to  give  Andros  a  pretext  for  asserting  his 
authority  and  making  himself  a  nuisance  with  the 
people. 

Massachusetts  never  enjoyed  the  full  favor  of 
the  Stuart  dynasty.  The  almost  complete  inde 
pendence  which  had  been  enjoyed  for  nearly  twenty 
years  was  too  dear  to  be  hastily  relinquished.  When 
it  became  certain  that  the  hereditary  family  of  kings 
had  been  settled  on  the  throne,  and  that  swarms  of 
enemies  to  the  colony  had  gathered  round  the  new 
government,  a  general  court  was  convened,  and  an 
address  was  prepared  for  the  parliament  and  the 
monarch.  This  address  prayed  for  "the  continu 
ance  of  civil  and  religious  liberties,"  and  requested 
an  opportunity  of  defence  against  complaints. 

"Let  not  the  king's  men  hear  your  words. 
Your  servants  are  true  men,  fearing  God  and  the 
king.  We  could  not  live  without  the  public  wor 
ship  of  God.  That  we  might  therefore  enjoy  divine 
worship  without  human  mixtures,  we,  not  without 
tears,  departed  from  our  country,  kindred,  and 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE.  251 

fathers'  houses.  Our  garments  are  become  old  bj 
reason  of  the  very  long  journey.  Ourselves,  who 
came  away  in  our  strength,  are,  many  of  us,  be 
come  gray-headed,  and  some  ui  us  are  stooping  for 
age." 

So  great  was  their  dread  of  the  new  king  after 
the  restoration,  that,  as  we  have  seen,  Whalley 
and  Goffe  were  denied  shelter  at  all  the  public 
houses  in  Boston.  Their  charter  was  threatened 
and  commissioners  sent  to  demand  it;  but,  by  one 
device  and  another,  the  shrewd  rulers  of  Massa 
chusetts  managed  to  avert  the  calamity.  The  gov 
ernment  at  home  was  kept  busy  at  this  time.  There 
was  a  threatened  war  with  the  Dutch,  and  then  the 
whole  government  of  England  had  to  be  thoroughly 
renovated.  Charles  II.  was  not  much  of  a  business 
monarch.  His  thoughts  were  mainly  of  pleasure, 
and,  despite  his  merciless  pursuit  of  the  men  who 
put  his  father  to  death,  he  was  good-natured. 

Though  the  colonists  of  Massachusetts  had  levied 
two  hundred  men  for  the  expected  war  with  the 
Dutch,  they  wished  to  maintain  their  spirit  of  in 
dependence,  and  the  two  hundred  were  only  a  free 
offering.  They  regarded  the  commission  sent  by 
the  king  as  a  flagrant  violation  of  chartered  rights. 
In  the  matter  of  obedience  due  to  a  government, 
the  people  of  Massachusetts  made  the  nice  distinc 
tion  between  natural  obedience  and  voluntary  sub- 


252  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

jection.  They  argued  that  the  child  born  on  the 
soil  of  England  is  necessarily  an  English  subject; 
but  they  held  to  the  original  right  of  expatriation, 
that  every  man  may  withdraw  from  the  land  of  his 
birth,  and  renounce  all  duty  of  allegiance  with  all 
claim  to  protection.  This  they  themselves  had 
done.  Remaining  in  England,  they  acknowledged 
the  obligatory  force  of  established  laws.  Because 
those  laws  were  intolerable,  they  had  emigrated  to 
a  new  world,  where  they  could  organize  their  gov 
ernment,  as  many  of  them  originally  did,  on  the 
basis  of  natural  rights  and  of  perfect  independence. 
As  the  establishment  of  a  commission  with  dis 
cretionary  powers  was  not  specially  sanctioned  by 
their  charter,  they  resolved  to  resist  the  orders  of 
the  king  and  nullify  his  commission.  While  the 
fleet  sent  from  England  was  engaged  in  reducing 
New  York,  Massachusetts,  on  September  10th, 
1664-,  published  an  order  prohibiting  complaints  to 
the  commissioners,  and  at  the  same  time  issued  a 
remonstrance,  not  against  deeds  of  tyranny,  but 
the  menace  of  tyranny,  not  against  actual  wrong, 
but  against  the  principle  of  wrong.  On  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  October  it  thus  addressed  a  letter  to  King 
Charles  II. : 

"  DREAD  SOVEREIGN  : — The  first  undertakers  of  this  plan 
tation  did  obtain  a  patent,  wherein  is  granted  full  and  ab 
solute  power  of  governing  all  the  people  of  this  place,  by 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE.  253 

men  chosen  from  among  themselves,  and  according  to  such 
laws  as  they  should  see  meet  to  establish.  A  royal  dona 
tion,  under  the  great  seal,  is  the  greatest  security  that  may 
be  had  in  human  affairs.  Under  the  encouragement  and 
security  of  the  royal  charter,  this  people  did,  at  their  own 
charges,  transport  themselves,  their  wives  and  families, 
over  the  ocean,  purchase  the  land  of  the  natives,  and  plant 
this  colony,  with  great  labor,  hazards,  cost,  and  difficul 
ties  ;  for  a  long  time  wrestling  with  the  wants  of  a  wilder 
ness  and  the  burdens  of  a  new  plantation  ;  having  also  now- 
above  thirty  years  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  GOVERNMENT 
WITH  THEMSELVES,  as  their  undoubted  right  in  the  sight 
of  God  and  man.  To  be  governed  by  rulers  of  our  own 
choosing  and  laws  of  our  own,  is  the  fundamental  privilege 
of  our  patent. 

"A  commission  under  the  great  seal,  within  four  per 
sons  (one  of  them  our  professed  enemy)  are  impowered  to 
receive  and  determine  all  complaints  and  appeals  accord 
ing  to  their  discretion,  subjects  us  to  the  arbitrary  power 
of  strangers,  and  will  end  in  the  subversion  of  our  all. 

"If  these  things  go  on,  your  subjects  here  will  either  be 
forced  to  seek  new  dwellings  or  sink  under  intolerable 
burdens.  The  vigor  of  all  new  endeavors  will  be  en 
feebled  ;  the  king  himself  will  be  a  loser  of  the  wonted 
benefit  by  customs,  exported  and  imported  from  hence  into 
England,  and  this  hopeful  plantation  will  in  the  issue  be 
ruined. 

"  If  the  aim  should  be  to  gratify  some  particular  gentle 
men  by  livings  and  revenues  here,  that  will  also  fail,  for 
the  poverty  of  the  people.  If  all  the  charges  of  the  whole 
government  by  the  year  were  put  together,  and  then 
doubled  or  trebled,  it  would  not  be  counted  for  one  of  those 
gentlemen  a  considerable  accommodation.  To  a  coalition 
in  this  course  the  people  will  never  come  ;  and  it  will  be 
hard  to  find  another  people  that  will  stand  under  any  con 
siderable  burden  in  this  country,  seeing  it  is  not  a  country 


254  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

where  men  can  subsist  without  hard  labor  and  great  fru 
gality. 

"  God  knows,  our  great  ambition  is  to  live  a  quiet  life, 
in  a  corner  of  the  world.  We  came  not  into  this  wilder 
ness  to  seek  great  things  to  ourselves ;  and,  if  any  come 
after  us  to  seek  them  here,  they  will  be  disappointed.  We 
keep  ourselves  within  our  line ;  a  just  dependence  upon, 
and  subjection  to,  your  majesty,  according  to  our  charter, 
it  is  far  from  our  hearts  to  disacknowledge.  We  would 
gladly  do  anything  within  our  power  to  purchase  the  con 
tinuance  of  your  favorable  aspect ;  but  it  is  a  great  unhap- 
piness  to  have  no  testimony  of  our  loyalty  offered  but  this, 
to  yield  up  our  liberties,  which  are  far  dearer  to  us  than 
our  lives,  and  which  we  have  willing  ventured  our  lives, 
and  passed  through  many  deaths  to  obtain. 

"It  was  Job's  excellency,  when  he  sat  as  king  among  his 
people,  that  he  was  a  father  to  the  poor.  A  poor  people, 
destitute  of  outward  favor,  wealth,  and  power,  now  cry 
unto  their  lord  the  king.  May  your  magesty  regard  their 
cause,  and  maintain  their  right ;  it  will  stand  among  the 
marks  of  lasting  honor  to  after  generations. " 

The  royalists  in  the  days  prior  to  the  American 
Revolution,  occupied  a  similar  position  that  the 
monopolists,  and  wealthy  do  in  politics  to-day. 
They  were  the  aristocrats,  and  for  the  common 
people  to  clamor  for  political  freedom  was  absurd. 
The  idea  of  republicanism  was  as  loathsome  to  them 
and  watched  with  as  much  jealousy  as  an  impor 
tant  labor  movement  is  to-day.  The  royalists  called 
the  men  who  clamored  for  civil  and  religious  lib 
erty  fanatics,  just  as  the  monopolists  of  to-day, 
who  control  the  dominant  parties,  call  men  who 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DELIVERANCE.  255 

cry  out  against  their  oppression  fanatics.  It  is 
sometimes  difficult  to  distinguish  the  instinct  of  fa 
naticism  from  the  soundest  judgment,  for  fanaticism 
is  sometimes  the  keenest  sagacity.  Those  men 
wanted  liberty  and  struggled  and  fought  for  it  un 
til  it  was  obtained,  just  as  the  toiling  millions  of 
the  world  will  some  day  sting  the  heel  of  grinding 
monopolies. 

From  1660  to  1671,  all  New  England  was  kept 
in  a  perpetual  state  of  alarm  and  excitement. 
Plymouth  made  a  firm  stand  for  independence,  al 
though  the  weakest  of  the  colonies.  The  commis 
sioners  threatened  to  assume  control.  It  was  the 
dawning  strife  of  the  new  system  against  the  old, 
of  American  politics  against  European  politics,  and 
yet  those  men  struggling  for  liberty  were  called 
fanatics. 

Secure  in  the  support  of  a  resolute  minority,  the 
Puritan  commonwealth,  in  1668,  entered  the  prov 
ince  of  Maine,  and  again  established  its  authority 
by  force  of  arms.  Great  tumults  ensued;  many 
persons,  opposed  to  what  seemed  a  usurpation, 
were  punished  for  "irreverent  speeches."  Some 
even  reproached  the  authorities  of  Massachusetts 
"as  traitors  and  rebels  against  the  king";  but  the 
usurpers  made  good  their  ascendency  till  Gorges 
recovered  his  claims  by  adjudication  in  England. 
From  the  southern  limit  of  Massachusetts  to  the 


256  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Quebec,  the  colonial  government  maintained  its  in 
dependent  jurisdiction. 

The  defiance  of  Massachusetts  was  not  punished 
as  might  have  been  expected.  Clarendon's  power 
was  gone,  and  he  was  an  exile.  A  board  of  trade, 
projected  in  1668,  never  assumed  the  administra 
tion  of  colonial  affairs,  and  had  not  vitality  enough 
to  last  more  than  three  or  four  years.  Profligate 
libertines  gained  the  confidence  of  the  king's  mis 
tresses,  and  secured  places  in  the  royal  cabinet. 
While  Charles  II.  was  dallying  with  women  and 
robbing  the  theatres  of  actresses;  while  the  licen 
tious  Buckingham,  who  had  succeeded  in  displac 
ing  Clarendon,  wasted  the  vigor  of  his  mind  and 
body  by  indulging  in  every  sensual  pleasure  "  which 
nature  could  desire  or  wit  invent";  while  Louis 
XIV.  was  increasing  his  influence  by  bribing  the 
mistress  of  the  chief  of  the  king's  cabal,  England 
remained  without  a  good  government,  and  the  col 
onies,  despite  bluster  and  threats,  flourished  in 
purity  and  peace.  The  English  ministry  dared 
not  interfere  with  Massachusetts;  it  was  right  that 
the  stern  virtues  of  the  ascetic  republicans  should 
intimidate  the  members  of  the  profligate  cabinet. 
The  affairs  of  New  England  were  often  discussed; 
but  the  privy  council  was  overawed  by  the  moral 
dignity,  which  they  could  not  comprehend. 

Amid  all  the  discord  and  threats,  the  New  Eng- 


THE  ANGEL   OF  DELIVERANCE.  257 

land  colonies  continued  to  advance  in  population, 
and  their  villages  assumed  the  dignity  of  towns. 
It  is  difficult  to  form  exact  opinions  as  to  the  pop 
ulation  of  the  several  colonies  in  this  early  period 
of  their  history.  The  colonial  accounts  are  incom 
plete,  and  those  furnished  l>y  emissaries  from  Eng 
land  are  grossly  false.  The  best  estimate  that  can 
be  obtained  gives  to  Xew  England,  in  1GT5,  fifty- 
five  thousand  souls.  Of  these  it  is  supposed  that 
Plymouth  contained  not  less  than  seven  thousand, 
Connecticut,  nearly  fourteen  thousand,  Massachu 
setts  proper,  more  than  twenty-two  thousand,  and 
Maine,  New  Hampshire  and  Rhode  Island,  each 
perhaps  four  thousand.  The  settlements  were 
chiefly  by  agricultural  communities,  planted  near 
the  seaside,  from  New  Haven  to  Pemaquid.  The 
beaver  trade,  more  than  traffic  in  lumber  and  fish, 
had  produced  the  village  beyond  the  Piscataqua; 
yet  in  Maine,  as  in  New  Hampshire,  there  was  "a 
great  trade  in  deal  boards." 

A  sincere  attempt  had  been  made  to  convert  the 
natives  and  win  them  to  the  regular  industry  of 
civilized  life.  The  ministers  of  the  early  emigra 
tion,  fired  with  a  zeal  as  pure  as  it  was  fervent, 
longed  to  redeem  those  "wrecks  of  humanity,"  by 
planting  in  their  hearts  the  seeds  of  conscious  vir 
tue,  and  gathering  them  into  permanent  villages. 
No  pains  were  spared  to  teach  them  to  read  and 
17 


258  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

write,  and  in  a  short  time  a  larger  proportion  of 
the  Massachusetts  Indians  could  do  so,  than  the 
inhabitants  of  Eussia  fifty  years  ago.  Some  of 
them  wrote  and  spoke  English  tolerably  well. 
Foremost  among  these  early  missionaries,  the 
morning  star  of  missionary  enterprise,  was  John 
Elliot,  whose  benevolence  amounted  to  the  inspira 
tion  of  genius.  He  wrote  an  Indian  grammar,  and 
translated  the  whole  of  the  Bible  into  the  Massa 
chusetts  dialect.  His  actions,  his  thoughts,  his 
desires,  all  wore  the  hue  of  disinterested  love. 

The  frown  was  on  the  Indian's  brow,  however. 
Clouds  were  rising  in  the  horizon.  Since  the  Pe- 
quod  war,  there  had  been  no  great  Indian  uprising; 
but  there  was  a  general  feeling  of  uneasiness  which 
seemed  to  portend  a  general  outbreak.  The  New 
Englanders  were  to  feel  the  effects  of  it  in  all  its 
fury.  Neither  Whalley  nor  Goffe  had  been  seen 
since  the  day  that  Eobert  Stevens  assisted  the  lat 
ter  to  make  his  escape. 

The  Indians,  whose  cupidity  had  been  aroused  by 
English  gold,  had  searched  the  forest  far  and  near 
for  the  regicides.  Their  knowledge  of  the  forest 
and  cunning  in  following  a  trail  had  two  or  three 
times  brought  them  face  to  face  with  Cromwell's 
stern  old  battle-trained  warriors.  Then  they  had 
learned  to  their  cost  that  they  had  roused  a  pair  of 
lions  in  their  lairs;  but  the  regicides  finally  disap- 


THE  ANGEL   OF  DELIVERANCE.  259 

peared.  They  had  last  been  seen  near  Hadley, 
and  it  was  currently  reported  they  were  dead. 

Eumors  of  an  Indian  outbreak  were  rife;  still 
the  good  people  of  Hadley  were  living  in  compara 
tive  security.  It  was  a  quiet  sabbath  morn,  and 
the  drowsy  hum  of  the  bees  made  music  on  the 
air.  The  great  meeting-house  stood  with  its  doors 
thrown  wide  open  inviting  worshippers.  The  sun, 
beaming  from  the  cloudless  sky  upon  the  scene, 
seemed  a  benediction  of  peace.  The  whispering 
breeze  on  this  delightful  twelfth  of  June  swept 
about  the  eaves  of  the  church  without  a  hint  of 
danger. 

The  worshippers  at  the  proper  hour  were  seen 
thronging  to  the  meeting-house,  carrying  their  guns, 
swords  or  pistols  with  them.  It  seemed  useless  to 
go  armed,  when  there  was  not  a  whisper  of  dan 
ger;  but  scarcely  had  the  worship  begun,  when  a 
terrible  warwhoop  broke  the  stillness.  Immediately 
all  was  confusion.  Children  shrieked,  some  women 
trembled,  and  men,  pale  and  stern,  began  to  fire 
upon  the  savages,  who,  seven  hundred  strong, 
rushed  on  the  place. 

They  fought  stubbornly,  driving  away  the  ene 
my;  but  their  great  lack  of  discipline  promised  in 
the  end  to  defeat  them. 

"We  are  lost!  We  are  lost!"  some  of  the 
weak-hearted  were  beginning  to  cry,  when  suddenly 


260  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

there  appeared  among  them,  from  they  knew  not 
where,  a  tall,  venerable  personage,  with  white 
flowing  beard,  clad  in  a  white  robe,  and  carrying 
a  glittering  sword  in  his  hand. 

"You  are  not  lost,  if  you  follow  me!"  he  cried. 

"Who  is  he?"  was  the  general  query,  which 
no  one  could  answer  save:  "He  is  an  angel  sent 
by  God  to  deliver  us." 

It  soon  became  quite  apparent  that  this  celestial 
being  was  well  posted  in  military  tactics.  He 
formed  the  young  men  in  line  of  battle  and  taught 
them  in  a  few  moments  to  deploy  and  rally. 

When  the  Indians  again  rushed  to  the  conflict, 
they  were  met  with  a  volley  that  stunned  them  and 
strewed  the  ground  with  dead.  The  angel  leader 
of  the  whites  then  gave  the  command  to  charge, 
and,  with  their  pistols  and  keen  swords,  they  flew 
at  the  enemy  before  they  had  time  to  recover,  and 
they  were  thrown  into  confusion  and  fled  in  dismay. 
After  the  departure  of  the  Indians,  nothing  was 
heard  or  seen  of  the  white  angsl  deliverer.  It  has 
since  been  ascertained  that  Goffe  and  Whalley  were 
at  that  time  concealed  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Russel 
in  Hadley,  and  it  is  inferred  that  Goffe  left  his 
concealment  when  the  danger  threatened,  and, 
forming  the  men,  led  them  to  victory. 


YOU   ARE   NOT   LOST   IP   TOC   FOLLOW   ME 


CHAPTER   XYI. 

KING    PHILIP'S   WAR. 

Oh,  there  be  some 

"Whose  writhed  features,  fixed  in  all  their  strength 
Of  grappling  agony,  do  stare  at  you, 
With  their  dead  eyes  half  opened. 

And  there  be  some  struck  through  with  bristling  darts 
Whose  clenched  hands  have  torn  the  pebbles  up  ; 
Whose  gnashing  teeth  have  ground  the  very  sand. 

— BAILLJE. 

MASSASOIT  kept  his  treaty  with  the  English 
inviolate  so  long  as  he  lived.  He  died  in  1661, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty  or  ninety  years,  leav 
ing  two  sons  whom  the  English  named  respectively 
Alexander  and  Philip.  Alexander,  the  eldest  son 
and  hereditary  sachem,  died  soon  after  his  father, 
when  Philip  became  chief  sachem  and  warrior  of 
the  Wampanoags,  with  his  royal  residence  on  Mount 
Hope,  not  far  from  Bristol,  Ehode  Island.  He 
was  called  King  Philip.  lie  resumed  the  cove 
nants  with  the  English  made  l>y  his  father,  and 
observed  them  faithfully  for  a  period  of  twelve 
years. 

261 


262  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

But  it  had  become  painfully  apparent  to  Massa- 
soit  before  bis  death,  that  the  spreading  colonies 
would  soon  deprive  his  people  of  their  land  and 
nationality,  and  that  the  Indians  must  become  vas 
sals  of  the  pale  race.  Long  did  the  warlike  King 
Philip  ponder  on  these  possibilities  with  deep  bit 
terness  of  feeling,  until  he  had  lashed  himself  into 
a  fury  by  the  continued  nursing  of  his  wrath,  and 
resolved  to  strike  the  exterminating  blow  against 
the  English. 

There  were  many  private  wrongs  of  his  people 
unavenged.  The  whites  already  had  assumed  a 
domineering  manner,  and  his  final  resolution  was 
both  natural  and  patriotic.  King  Philip  was  a 
man  of  reason,  and  it  is  said  he  had  no  hope  of 
success  when  he  began  the  wrar.  It  was  a  war 
against  such  odds  that  it  must  have  but  one  ter 
mination,  and  he  had  little  if  any  faith  in  a  success 
ful  issue. 

The  Pokanokets  had  ahvays  rejected  the  Chris 
tian  manners,  and  Massasoit  had  desired  to  insert 
in  a  treaty,  what  the  Puritans  never  permitted, 
that  the  English  should  never  attempt  to  convert 
the  warriors  of  his  tribe  from  their  religion. 

Repeated  sales  of  land  narrowed  their  domains, 
and  the  English  had  artfully  crowded  them  into 
the  tongues  of  land,  as  "most  suitable  and  con 
venient  for  them,"  where  they  would  be  more  easily 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  263 

watched.  The  two  chief  seats  of  the  Pokanokets 
were  the  peninsulas  now  called  Bristol  and  Tiver- 
ton.  As  the  English  villages  now  grew  nearer  and 
nearer  to  them,  their  hunting-grounds  were  put 
under  culture,  their  natural  parks  turned  into  pas 
tures,  their  best  fields  for  planting  corn  were  grad 
ually  alienated,  their  fisheries  impaired  by  more 
skilful  methods,  till  they  found  themselves  deprived 
of  their  broad  acres,  and  by  their  own  legal  con 
tracts  driven,  as  it  were,  into  the  sea. 

Mutual  distrusts  and  collisions  were  the  inevi 
table  consequence.  There  is  no  authentic  evidence 
of  a  deliberate  conspiracy  on  the  part  of  all  the 
tribes.  Bancroft,  who  is,  perhaps,  the  best  author 
ity  on  all  colonial  matters,  says  the  commencement 
of  the  war  was  accidental,  and  that  "many  of  the 
Indians  were  in  a  maze,  not  knowing  what  to  do, 
and  ready  to  stand  for  the  English." 

There  were  many  grievances  among  the  Indians. 
The  haughty  chieftain,  who  had  once  before  been 
compelled  to  surrender  his  "English  arms,"  and 
pay  an  onerous  tribute,  was  summoned  to  submit 
to  an  examination,  and  could  not  escape  suspicion. 

The  wrath  of  his  tribe  was  roused,  and  the  in 
former  was  murdered.  In  turn  the  murderers  were 
identified,  seized,  tried  by  a  jury  of  which  one-half 
were  Indians,  and  on  conviction  were  hanged.  The 
younger  men  of  the  tribe  were  eager  for  vengeance, 


264  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

and  without  delay  eight  or  nine  of  the  English 
were  slain  about  Swansey,  and  the  alarm  of  war 
spread  through  the  colonies. 

King  Philip  was  thus  unwillingly  hurried  into 
war,  and  he  wept  when  he  heard  that  a  white  man's 
blood  had  been  shed.  It  is  a  rare  thing  for  an  In 
dian  to  weep,  least  of  all  a  mighty  chief  like  Philip; 
but  in  the  cloud  of  war  hovering  over  his  people, 
he  read  the  doom  of  his  tribe.  He  had  kept  his 
men  about  him  in  arms,  and  had  welcomed  every 
stranger,  and  yet,  against  his  judgment  and  his  will, 
he  was  involved  in  war  almost  before  he  knew  it. 
The  English  had  guns  enough,  while  but  few  of 
the  Indians  were  well  armed  and  were  without  re 
sources  when  their  present  supply  was  exhausted. 
The  rifle,  though  not  in  general  use,  had  been  in 
vented  many  years  before,  and  for  hunters  and 
backwoodsmen  was  an  effective  weapon,  though  it 
was  regarded  as  "  a  slow  firing  gun  "  compared  with 
the  smooth-bore.  Many  of  the  Indians  had  fire 
arms  and  were  excellent  marksmen,  and  had  over 
come  their  superstitious  dread  of  the  white  man's 
weapons. 

The  minds  of  the  English  are  said  to  have  been 
appalled  by  the  horrors  of  the  impending  con 
flict,  and  superstition  indulged  in  wild  inventions. 
There  was  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  at  which  they 
declared  they  saw  the  figure  of  an  Indian  scalp  im- 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  265 

printed  on  the  centre  of  the  disk.  The  perfect  form 
of  an  Indian  bow  appeared  in  the  sky.  The  sigh 
ing  of  the  wind  was  like  the  whistling  of  bullets. 
Some  heard  invisible  troops  of  horses  gallop  through 
the  air,  while  others  found  the  prophecy  of  calam 
ities  in  the  howling  of  the  wolves. 

Despite  all  his  aversion  to  war,  Philip  found  it 
forced  upon  him,  and  when  he  took  up  the  hatchet 
he  threw  his  soul  into  the  issue,  and  fought  until 
death  ended  the  struggle.  There  were  many  Chris 
tian  converts  among  the  Indians,  who  were  firmly 
attached  to  the  English.  One  of  these,  John  Sas- 
saman,  who  had  been  educated  at  Cambridge, 
where  John  Harvard  had  established  a  college,  was 
a  royal  secretary  to  Philip.  Becoming  acquainted 
with  the  plans  of  the  sachem,  he  revealed  them  to 
the  authorities  at  Plymouth.  For  this  he  was 
murdered,  and  his  murderers  hanged. 

Soon  after  the  attack  on  Swansey,  Philip  left  his 
place  of  residence  and  his  territory  to  the  English. 
The  following  is  the  reason  of  his  precipitate  re 
treat.  Additional  assistance  being  needed,  the  au 
thorities  of  Boston  sent  out  Major-General  Savage 
from  that  place,  with  sixty  horse  and  as  many 
foot-soldiers,  who  scoured  the  country  all  the  way 
to  Mount  Hope,  where  King  Philip,  his  wife  and 
child  were  supposed  to  be  at  that  time. 

Philip  was  at  dinner  when  the  news  reached  him 


266  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

of  the  near  proximity  of  his  enemies,  and  he  rose 
with  his  family,  officers  and  warriors  and  fled  fur 
ther  up  the  country.  The  English  pursued  them 
as  far  as  they  could  go  for  the  swamps,  and  over 
took  the  rear  of  the  detachment,  killing  sixteen  of 
them. 

At  the  solicitation  of  Benjamin  Church,  a  com 
pany  of  thirty-six  men  were  placed  under  him  and 
Captain  Fuller,  who  on  the  8th  of  July  marched 
down  into  Pocasset  Neck.  This  force,  small  as  it 
was,  afterward  divided,  Church  taking  nineteen  of 
the  men  and  Fuller  the  remaining  seventeen.  The 
party  under  Church  proceeded  into  a  point  of  land 
called  Punkateeset,  now  the  southerly  extremity  of 
Tiverton,  where  they  were  attacked  by  a  body  of 
three  hundred  Indians.  After  a  fight  of  a  few 
moments,  the  English  fell  back  to  the  seashore,  and 
thus  saved  themselves  from  destruction,  for  Church 
perceived  that  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Indians  to 
surround  them.  Every  one  expected  death,  but 
resolved  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 
Thus  hemmed  in,  Church  had  a  double  duty  to 
perform — that  of  preserving  the  spirit  of  his  fol 
lowers,  several  of  whom  viewed  their  situation  as 
desperate,  and  erecting  piles  of  stone  to  defend 
them. 

Boats  had  been  appointed  to  attend  the  English 
on  this  expedition,  and  the  heroic  party  looked  for 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  267 

relief  from  this  quarter;  but,  though  the  boats  ap 
peared,  the  bullets  of  the  Indians  made  them  pre 
serve  a  respectable  distance,  until  Church,  in  a 
moment  of  vexation,  cried: 

"  Be  off  with  you,  cowards,  and  leave  us  to  our 
fate!"  The  boats  took  him  at  his  word. 

The  Indians,  now  encouraged,  fought  more  des 
perately  than  before.  The  situation  of  the  Eng 
lishmen  was  most  forlorn,  although  as  yet  not  one 
had  been  wounded.  Night  was  coming  on,  their 
ammunition  was  nearly  spent,  and  the  Indians, 
having  taken  possession  of  a  stone  house  on  the 
hill,  fired  into  the  temporary  barricade  of  the  Eng 
lish;  but  at  this  moment  a  sloop  hove  in  sight, 
and  bore  down  toward  the  shore.  It  had  two  or 
three  small  cannon  on  board  with  which  it  pro 
ceeded  to  knock  down  the  stone  house.  The  sloop 
was  commanded  by  a  resolute  man,  Captain  Gold- 
ing,  who  effected  the  embarkation  of  the  company, 
taking  off  only  two  at  a  time  in  a  canoe.  During 
the  embarkation  the  Indians  who  were  armed  with 
muskets  and  rifles  kept  up  a  steady  fire  from  be 
hind  trees  and  stones,  and  Church,  who  was  the 
last  to  embark,  narrowly  escaped  the  balls  of  the 
enemy,  one  grazing  his  head,  and  another  lodging 
in  a  stake,  which  happened  to  stand  just  above 
the  centre  of  his  breast. 

Captain  Church  soon  after  joined  a  body  of  Eng- 


268  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

lish  and  returned  to  Pocasset,  and  Philip,  after  a 
skirmish,  retired  to  the  swamps,  where  for  a  time 
his  situation  became  desperate;  but  at  length  he 
contrived  to  elude  his  besiegers,  and  fled  to  the 
Nipmucks,  who  received  him  with  a  warmth  of 
welcome  quite  gratifying  to  the  ambitious  chieftain. 

The  governor  of  Massachusetts  sought  to  dis 
suade  the  Nipmucks  from  espousing  the  cause  of 
Philip ;  but  they  could  not  agree  among  themselves, 
and  consented  to  meet  the  English  commissioners 
at  a  place  three  miles  from  Brookfield  on  a  speci 
fied  day.  Captains  Hutchinson  and  Wheeler  were 
deputized  to  proceed  to  the  appointed  place.  With 
twenty  mounted  men  and  three  Christian  Indians 
as  guides  and  interpreters  they  reached  the  ap 
pointed  place,  but  no  Indians  were  to  be  seen. 
After  a  short  consultation,  they  advanced  a  little 
further,  when  they  found  themselves  in  an  ambus 
cade.  A  volley  of  rifles  and  muskets  was  the  first 
intimation  of  the  presence  of  Indians.  Eight  men 
and  five  horses  fell  dead,  and  Captain  Hutchinson 
and  two  more  were  mortally  wounded.  The  Chris 
tian  Indians  led  the  remnant  to  Brookfield. 

They  scarcely  had  time  to  alarm  the  inhabitants, 
who,  to  the  number  of  seventy-eight,  flocked  into 
the  garrison  house,  when  the  Indians  assailed  the 
town.  The  house  was  but  slightly  fortified  about 
the  exterior  by  a  few  logs  hastily  thrown  up,  while 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  269 

inside  the  house  was  padded  with  feather-beds  to 
deaden  the  force  of  the  bullets.  The  house  was 
soon  surrounded  by  the  enemy,  and  shots  poured 
in  from  all  directions.  The  beleaguered  English 
were  no  mean  marksmen,  and  they  soon  taught  the 
Indians  to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance.  The  In 
dians  rilled  a  cart  with  hemp,  flax,  and  other  com 
bustible  materials,  which  they  set  on  fire,  and 
pushed  it  backward  to  the  building.  The  be 
leaguered  people  began  to  pray  for  deliverance, 
when,  as  if  in  answer  to  their  prayer,  a  heavy 
shower  of  rain  fell,  extinguishing  the  fire,  and  be 
fore  it  could  be  replenished,  Major  Willard  with 
a  party  of  dragoons  arrived  and  the  Indians  raised 
the  siege. 

A  considerable  number  of  Christian  Indians  near 
Hatfield  were  suspected  of  being  friendly  to  Philip 
and  ordered  to  give  up  their  arms.  TLey  escaped 
at  night  and  fled  up  the  river  toward  Deerfield  to 
join  Philip.  The  English  pursued  them  and  early 
next  morning  came  up  with  them  at  a  swamp,  op 
posite  to  the  present  town  of  Smiderland,  where  a 
warm  contest  ensued.  The  Indians  fought  gal 
lantly,  but  were  finally  routed,  with  a  loss  of 
twenty-six  of  their  number,  while  the  whites  lost 
only  ten.  The  escaped  Indians  joined  Philip's 
forces,  and  Lathrop  and  Beers  returned  to  their 
station  at  Hadley. 


270  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

About  the  10th  of  September,  while  Captain 
Lathrop  was  bringing  away  some  provisions  and 
corn  from  Deerfield,  he  was  attacked  at  a  place 
called  "Muddy  Brook."  Knowing  the  English 
would  pass  here  with  their  teams  and  horses,  the 
Indians  lay  in  ambush  and,  pouring  in  a  destruc 
tive  fire,  rushed  furiously  to  a  close  engagement. 
The  English  ranks  were  broken,  and  the  scattered 
troops  were  everywhere  attacked.  Seeking  the 
cover  of  trees,  the  English  fought  with  desperation. 
The  combat  now  became  a  trial  of  skill  in  sharp- 
shooting,  on  the  issue  of  which  life  or  death  was 
suspended.  The  overwhelming  superiority  of  the 
Indians,  as  to  numbers,  left  little  room  for  hope 
on  the  part  of  the  English.  Every  instant  they 
were  shot  down  behind  their  retreats,  until  nearly 
their  whole  number  perished.  The  dead,  the  dy 
ing,  the  wounded  strewed  the  ground  in  every 
direction.  Out  of  nearly  one  hundred,  including 
the  teamsters,  not  more  than  seven  or  eight  escaped 
from  the  bloody  spot.  The  wounded  were  indis 
criminately  massacred.  This  company  consisted  of 
choice  young  men,  "  the  very  flower  of  Essex 
County,  none  of  whom  were  ashamed  to  speak  with 
the  enemy  in  the  gate."  Eighteen  were  citizens  of 
Deerfield. 

Captain  Moseley  arrived  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
fight,  just  as  the  Indians  began  stripping  and  mu- 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  271 

tilating  the  dead.  He  charged  the  Indians,  cutting 
his  way  through  with  his  company  again  and  again, 
until  he  drove  them  from  the  field. 

The  Indians  near  Springfield,  supposed  to  be 
friendly,  on  the  4th  of  October  became  allies  of 
King  Philip,  whose  cause  seemed  likely  to  prevail. 
They  planned  to  get  possession  of  the  fort,  but 
were  betrayed  by  an  Indian  at  Windsor,  and  when 
the  savages  came  they  found  the  garrison  ready  to 
resist  them.  The  savages  burned  thirty-two  houses 
and  barns,  and  the  beleaguered  people  were  in  great 
distress. 

King  Philip  next  aimed  a  blow  at  the  three 
towns  Hadley,  Hatfield  and  Northampton  at  once. 
At  this  time,  Captain  Appleton  with  one  company 
lay  at  Hadley,  Captain  Moseley  and  Poole  with 
two  companies  were  at  Ilatfield,  while  Major  Treat 
had  just  returned  to  Northampton  for  the  security 
of  the  settlement.  Philip  with  seven  or  eight  hun 
dred  warriors  made  a  bold  assault  on  Hatfield,  on 
the  19th  of  October,  attacking  from  every  side  at 
the  same  moment;  but  after  a  severe  struggle  the 
Indians  were  repulsed  at  every  point. 

After  leaving  the  western  frontier  of  Massachu 
setts,  Philip  was  next  known  to  be  in  the  countries 
of  his  allies,  the  Narragansetts.  The  latter  had 
not  heartily  engaged  in  the  war;  but  their  inclina 
tion  to  do  so  was  not  doubted,  and  it  was  the  de- 


272  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

sign  of  Philip  to  arouse  them  to  activity.  Conan- 
chet,  their  sachem,  in  violation  of  his  treaty  with 
the  English,  not  only  received  Philip's  warriors, 
but  aided  their  operations  against  the  English,  and 
Massachusetts,  Connecticut  and  Plymouth  raised 
an  army  of  fifteen  hundred  men  and,  in  the  winter 
of  1675,  set  out  to  attack  the  Indians. 

Philip  had  strongly  fortified  himself  at  South 
Kingston,  Ehode  Island,  on  an  elevated  portion  of 
an  immense  swamp.  Here  his  men  erected  about 
five  hundred  wigwams,  of  a  superior  construction, 
in  which  was  deposited  an  abundant  store  of  pro 
visions.  Baskets  and  tubs  of  corn  (hollow  trees  cut 
off  about  the  length  of  a  barrel)  were  piled  one  upon 
another  around  the  inside  of  the  dwellings,  which 
rendered  them  bullet-proof.  Here  about  three 
thousand  Indians  had  taken  up  their  winter  quar 
ters,  and  among  them  were  Philip's  best  warriors. 

Governor  Winslow  of  Plymouth  commanded  the 
English.  A  heavy  snow  had  fallen  and  the  weather 
was  intensely  cold;  but  on  December  19,  the  Eng 
lish  reached  the  fort  and,  by  reason  of  their  scar 
city  of  provisions,  resolved  to  attack  at  once.  The 
New  Englanders  were  unacquainted  with  the  situ 
ation  of  the  Indians,  and,  but  for  an  Indian  who 
betrayed  his  countrymen,  there  is  little  probability 
that  the  English  would  have  effected  anything 
against  the  fort.  The  stronghold  was  reached 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  273 


about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
lish  assailed  the  most  vulnerable  part  of  it,  where  it 
was  fortified  by  a  kind  of  a  block-house,  directly 
in  front  of  the  entrance,  and  had  also  flankers  to 
cover  a  cross-fire.  The  place  was  protected  by 
high  palisades  and  an  immense  hedge  of  fallen  trees 
surrounding  it  on  all  sides.  Between  the  fort  and 
the  main  land  was  a  body  of  water,  which  could  be 
crossed  only  on  a  large  tree  lying  over  it.  Such 
was  the  formidable  aspect  of  the  place,  such  the 
difficulty  of  gaining  access  to  it. 

At  first  the  English  tried  to  cross  over  on  the 
log;  but,  being  compelled  to  go  in  single  file,  they 
were  shot  down  by  the  Indians,  until  six  captains 
and  a  number  of  men  had  been  slain.  Captain 
Moseley  and  a  mere  handful  of  men  finally  rushed 
over  the  log  and  burst  into  the  fort,  where  they 
were  assailed  by  fearful  odds.  This  bold  act  so 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  Indians  that  others 
rushed  in.  Captain  Church,  that  indomitable  In 
dian  fighter,  burst  into  the  fort,  dashed  through  it, 
and  reached  the  swamp  in  the  rear,  where  he  poured 
a  destructive  fire  into  the  enemy  in  retreat.  The 
Indian  cabins  were  set  on  fire,  and  a  scene  of  hor 
ror  followed.  A  Narragansett  chief  afterward 
stated  their  loss  at  seven  hundred  killed  in  the  fort 
and  three  hundred  more  who  died  of  their  wounds 
in  the  woods. 
18 


274  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

After  the  destruction  of  the  place,  Governor 
Winslow  set  out  with  his  killed  and  wounded 
through  a  driving  snow-storm  for  Petty quamscott. 
The  inarch  was  one  of  misery  and  distress,  and  a 
number  of  the  wounded  died  on  their  march. 

On  the  19th  of  February,  the  Indians  surprised 
Lancaster  with  complete  success,  falling  upon  it 
with  a  force  of  several  hundred  warriors.  The 
town  contained  fifty-two  families,  of  whom  forty- 
two  persons  were  killed  or  captured.  Forty-two 
persons  took  shelter  in  the  house  of  Mary  Row- 
landson,  the  wife  of  the  minister  of  the  place.  It 
was  set  on  fire  by  the  Indians.  "Quickly,"  says 
Mrs.  Rowlandson  in  her  narrative,  "it  was  the 
dolefullest  day  that  ever  mine  eyes  saw.  Now 
the  dreadful  hour  had  come.  Some  in  our  house 
were  fighting  for  their  lives;  others  wallowing  in 
blood ;  the  house  on  fire  over  our  heads,  and  the 
bloody  heathen  ready  to  knock  us  on  the  head  if 
we  stirred  out.  I  took  my  children  to  go  forth; 
but  the  Indians  shot  so  thick  that  the  bullets  rattled 
against  the  house  as  if  one  had  thrown  a  handful 
of  stones.  We  had  six  stout  dogs;  but  none  of 
them  would  stir.  A  bullet  went  through  my  side, 
and  another  through  a  child  in  my  arms,  and  I 
was  made  captive,  having  of  my  family  only  one 
poor  wounded  babe  left.  I  was  led  from  the  town 
where  my  captors  halted  to  gaze  on  the  burning 


KINO  PHILIP'S  WAR.  275 

houses.  Down  I  must  sit  in  the  snow,  with  my 
sick  child,  the  picture  of  death  in  my  lap.  Not 
the  least  crumb  of  refreshment  came  within  our 
mouths  from  Wednesday  night  until  Sunday  night 
except  a  little  cold  water." 

Mrs.  Rowlandson  and  her  child  were  afterward 
recovered  from  the  savages. 

Shortly  after  the  Lancaster  disaster,  Captain 
Pierce,  with  fifty  men  and  twenty  Cape  Cod  Ind 
ians,  having  crossed  the  Pawtuxet  River  in  Rhode 
Island,  unexpectedly  met  a  large  body  of  Indians. 

The  English  fell  back  and  took  up  a  sheltered 
position  under  the  river  bank;  but  here  they  were 
hemmed  in  and  fought  until  all  fell  save  one  white 
man  and  four  Indians,  after  killing  more  than  one 
hundred  of  the  enemy. 

The  Christian  Indians  of  Cape  Cod  showed  their 
faithfulness  arid  courage  in  this  melancholy  affair. 
Four  of  them  effected  their  escape  and  one  of  these 
aided  in  the  escape  of  the  only  white  man  who  sur 
vived.  His  name  was  Amos,  and  after  Captain 
Pierce  was  wounded  he  remained  by  him  loading 
and  firing,  until  it  was  evident  he  could  do  no 
more.  Then  he  painted  his  face  black  as  his  ene 
mies  had  done,  and  thus  escaped.  Another  of  the 
Christian  Indians  pretended  to  be  chasing  the  white 
man  who  thus  escaped  with  upraised  tomahawk. 
The  ruse  saved  both. 


276  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

On  the  20th  of  April,  an  army  of  Indians  made 
an  assault  on  Sudbury.  The  people  were  rein 
forced  by  soldiers  from  Watertown  and  Concord. 
The  Indians  drew  the  Concord  people  into  an  am 
buscade  and  only  one  escaped. 

The  best  Indian  warrior  makes  a  poor  general. 
He  has  no  ability  to  preserve  an  organization,  and 
soon  calamities  began  to  befall  Philip.  They  were 
small  at  first;  but  they  tended  to  discourage  his 
followers.  First  the  Deerfield  Indians  abandoned 
his  cause,  and  many  of  the  Nipmucks  and  Narra- 
gansetts  followed.  Still,  Philip,  though  he  had 
not  been  much  seen  during  the  winter,  and  it  is 
doubtful  where  he  had  spent  the  most  of  it,  had  no 
intention  of  abating  his  efforts  against  the  English. 

In  the  month  of  May,  167(5,  he  appeared  at  the 
head  of  a  powerful  force  in  northern  Massachusetts. 
Large  bodies  of  Indians  about  this  time  took  up 
positions  at  the  Connecticut  Eiver  falls,  where  they 
were  attacked  and  routed  by  Captain  Turner.  One 
hundred  were  left  dead  on  the  field  and  a  hundred 
and  forty  more  went  over  the  falls.  When  Tur 
ner  retreated  from  the  field,  the  Indians  rallied,  fell 
on  his  rear,  shot  down  the  gallant  captain  and 
thirty -seven  of  his  men. 

On  May  30th,  Philip,  at  the  head  of  six  hun 
dred  men,  attacked  Hatfield,  but  was  repulsed  after 
a  desperate  struggle. 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  277 

Philip's  power  was  on  the  wane.  He  was  se 
cure  in  no  place;  but  his  haughty  spirit  was  un 
tamed  by  adversity.  Although  meeting  with  con 
stant  losses,  and  among  them  some  of  his  most 
experienced  warriors,  he,  nevertheless,  seemed  as 
hostile  and  determined  as  ever.  In  August,  the 
intrepid  Church  made  a  descent  upon  his  head 
quarters  at  Matapoiset,  where  he  killed  and  made 
prisoners  one  hundred  and  thirty.  Philip  barely 
made  his  escape,  and  was  obliged  to  leave  his  wam 
pum  and  his  wife  and  child,  who  were  made 
prisoners. 

Church's  guide  had  brought  him  to  a  place 
where  a  large  tree,  which  the  enemy  had  felled, 
lay  across  a  stream.  Church  had  gained  the  top 
end  of  the  tree,  when  he  espied  an  Indian  on  the 
stump  of  it,  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
Church  brought  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  would 
have  shot  the  Indian,  had  not  one  of  his  own  Ind 
ians  told  him  not  to  fire,  as  he  believed  it  was  one 
of  his  own  men.  On  hearing  voices,  the  Indian 
looked  about,  and  the  friendly  Indian  got  a  glance 
at  his  face  and  discovered  that  it  was  Philip.  The 
friendly  Indian  fired,  but  too  late,  for  Philip,  leap 
ing  from  the  stump,  ran  down  the  bank  among  the 
bushes  and  in  a  moment  was  out  of  sight.  Church 
gave  chase  to  him;  but  he  could  not  be  found, 
though  they  picked  up  a  few  of  his  followers. 


278  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

King  Philip's  war  had  now  degenerated  into  a 
single  man  hunt.  From  this  time  on,  Philip  was 
too  closely  watched  and  hotly  pursued  to  escape 
destruction.  His  followers  deserted  him,  and  he 
was  driven  like  a  wild  beast  from  place  to  place, 
until  at  last  he  came  to  his  ancient  seat  near  Poka- 
noket,  when  one  of  his  men  advised  making  peace. 
Philip  killed  him  on  the  spot.  The  Indian  thus 
slain  had  a  brother  named  Alderman,  who,  fearing 
the  same  fate,  and  probably  in  revenge,  deserted 
Philip,  and  gave  Captain  Church  an  account  of 
his  situation  and  offered  to  lead  him  to  his  camp. 
Early  on  Saturday  morning,  August  12,  1676, 
Church,  with  his  Indian  guide,  came  to  the  swamp 
where  Philip  was  encamped,  and,  before  he  was  dis 
covered,  had  placed  a  guard  about  it  so  as  to  encom 
pass  it,  except  at  one  place.  He  then  ordered  Cap 
tain  Golding  to  rush  into  the  swamp  and  fall  upon 
Philip  in  his  camp,  which  he  immediately  did,  but 
was  discovered  as  he  approached,  and  Philip  fled. 
Having  been  just  awakened  and  being  only  partially 
dressed,  he  ran  at  full  speed,  carrying  his  gun  in 
his  hand,  and  came  directly  upon  the  Indian  Al 
derman,  who,  with  a  white  man,  was  in  ambush  at 
the  edge  of  the  swamp. 

"  There  comes  the  devil  Philip  now!"  cried  the 
Englishman,  raising  his  rifle  and  aiming  at  the  king; 
but  the  powder  in  the  pan  had  become  damp,  and 


n  K  FELI,  rro 


3f  HIS  FACE  IN  THE  MUD  A1O>  WATEK  V1TH  HIS  GfN  UNDER  HIM. 


KING  PHILIP'S  WAR.  279 

he  missed  fire.  Immediately  Alderman,  whose 
gun  was  loaded  with  two  balls,  fired,  sending  one 
bullet  through  Philip's  heart  and  another  not  more 
than  t\vo  inches  from  it.  lie  fell  upon  his  face  in 
the  rnud  and  water,  with  his  gun  under  him. 

The  death  of  Philip  ended  the  bloodiest  Indian 
war  at  that  time  known  in  the  New  World.  A 
few  of  his  confederates  were  captured;  but  there 
was  no  more  fighting.  Philip's  son  was  sold  into 
slavery  in  Bermuda.  So  perished  the  dynasty  of 
Massasoit. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

FEARING     THE     VEEGE. 

At  times  there  come,  as  come  there  ought, 
Grave  moments  of  sedater  thought, 
When  fortune  frowns,  nor  lends  our  night 
One  gleam  of  her  inconstant  light : 
And  hope,  that  decks  the  peasant's  bower, 
Shines  like  the  rainbow  through  the  shower. 

— CUNNINGHAM. 

ROBERT  STEVENS  was  warmly  greeted  by  his 
mother  and  sister  on  his  return  from  Massachusetts. 
He  had  grown  to  a  handsome  young  man,  whose 
daring  blue  eye  and  bold,  honest  face  seemed  born 
to  defy  tyrants.  Rebecca,  his  sister,  was  a  beau 
tiful  maiden,  just  budding  into  womanhood.  She 
possessed  her  father's  quiet,  gentle,  modest  de 
meanor  with  her  mother's  beauty.  Her  great  dark 
eyes  were  softer  than  her  mother's,  and  her  face 
and  contour  were  perfections  of  beauty. 

"How  glad  I  am  to  see  you!  Oh,  how  you 
have  grown!"  were  among  the  exclamations  of  his 
mother. 

Robert  noticed  a  great  change  in  her.  She  was 
280 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  281 

no  longer  the  proud-spirited  being  of  old.  Even 
when  assailed  by  poverty,  she  was  not  crushed  and 
humiliated.  Nothing  was  said  of  Mr.  Price,  though 
he  was  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  all.  The  step 
father  was  not  present;  but  Robert  thought: 

"  I  shall  meet  him,  and  the  meeting  will  come 
soon  enough." 

When  the  house  was  reached  he  had  almost  for 
gotten  him.  His  mother's  pale  face  and  wasted 
form  were  indications  of  poor  health;  but  she 
smiled  once  more,  and  lie  hoped  to  see  the  bloom 
return  to  the  still  youthful  cheek. 

It  was  early  when  lie  disembarked,  and  Mr. 
Hugh  Price,  the  royalist,  had  gone  with  Governor 
Berkeley  on  a  fox  chase.  He  returned  late  that 
night,  and  Robert  did  not  see  him  until  next 
morning.  The  greeting  between  Robert  and  the 
man  whom  he  heartily  despised  was  formal  and 
cool. 

The  cavalier  wras,  as  usual,  dressed  with  scrupu 
lous  care,  and,  in  lace  ruffles  and  silk,  sought  to 
conceal  his  coarse,  beastly  nature.  His  fat  face 
and  pursed  lips,  with  his  bottle  nose,  all  bore  evi 
dence  of  high  living  and  indulgence  in  the  wine 
cup.  The  family  assembled  at  the  breakfast  table 
and  sat  in  silence  through  the  meal.  When  it  was 
over,  Mr.  Price  said: 

"Robert,  I  want  to  see  you  in  my  study." 


282  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

His  "study"  was  a  room  in  which  were  a  few 
books  and  a  great  many  implements  of  the  chase. 
There  were  horns,  whips,  spurs,  boar  spears  and 
guns  on  the  wall.  Mr.  Price  lighted  his  pipe  and, 
throwing  himself  into  his  great  easy  chair,  said: 

"Sit  down,  Robert,  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you." 

Robert  closed  his  lips  firmly,  for  he  intuitively 
felt  that  what  was  corning  would  have  something 
unpleasant  about  it.  Mr.  Hugh  Price  partially 
raised  himself  from  his  chair  to  close  the  door. 
Robert  caught  a  momentary  glance  of  two  anxious 
faces  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  watching  them  and 
evidently  wondering  how  it  was  all  going  to  end. 
Having  closed  the  door  and  shut  those  friendly 
countenances  out  from  view,  Hugh  Price  raised  his 
slippered  feet  and  placed  them  on  the  stool  before 
him,  and  smoked  in  silence.  Robert  had  lost  the 
little  fear  he  had  entertained  in  childhood  for  his 
stepfather;  but  he  did  not  calculate  on  the  cun 
ning  and  treachery  which  in  Hugh  Price  had  taken 
the  place  of  strength.  He  realized  not  the  power 
ful  weapons  which  Price  could  wield  in  the  gov 
ernor  and  officers  of  State. 

"Robert,  you  have  come  back,"  began  Mr. 
Price,  slowly  and  deliberately,  as  if  he  wished  to 
impress  what  he  was  about  to  say  more  fully  on  his 
hearer.  "  I  have  some  words  of  advice  to  offer, 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  283 

and  I  trust  you  will  profit  by  them.  If  you  fail 
to,  don't  blame  rne." 

Robert,  by  a  respectful  nod,  indicated  that  he 
was  listening,  and  Mr.  Price  went  on: 

"  We  have  reached  a  period  when  a  great  civil 
revolution  seems  to  be  at  hand.  Virginia  is  about 
to  be  shaken  by  an  earthquake,  to  writhe  under 
intestine  wars,  and  it  may  be  necessary  for  you  to 
take  sides.  I  warn  you  to  have  a  care  which  side 
you  choose,  for  a  mistake  means  death.  You  had 
better  know  something  of  the  condition  of  the 
country  before  you  make  your  choice." 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  am  willing  to  learn  all  I  can 
of  Virginia,"  Robert  answered. 

"Very  well  spoken.  I  hope  that  you  have 
eradicated  from  your  mind  all  those  fallacious  and 
treasonable  ideas  of  republicanism.  The  failure 
of  the  commonwealth  in  England  ought  to  convince 
any  one  that  republicanism  can  never  succeed." 

Robert  was  silent.  So  deeply  had  republican 
ism  been  engrafted  in  his  soul  that  he  might  as 

<->  o 

well  attempt  to  tear  out  his  heart,  as  to  think  of 
uprooting  it.  His  meeting  with  General  Goffeand 
his  love  for  Ester  had  more  strongly  cemented  his 
love  for  liberty;  but  Robert  held  his  peace,  and 
the  stepfather  went  on. 

"  Virginia  is  ruled  by  a  governor  and  sixteen 
councillors,  commissioned  by  his  majesty,  and  a 


284  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

grand  assembly,  consisting  of  two  burgesses  from 
each  county,  meets  annually,  which  levies  taxes, 
hears  appeals  and  passes  laws  of  all  descriptions, 
which  are  sent  to  the  lord  chancellor  for  his  ap 
proval,  as  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  the  realm. 
We  now  have  forty  thousand  people  in  Virginia, 
of  whom  six  thousand  are  white  servants  and  two 
thousand  negro  slaves.  Since  1619,  only  three 
ship-loads  of  negroes  have  been  brought  here,  yet 
by  natural  increase  the  negroes  have  grown  a  hun 
dredfold." 

The  cavalier,  who  delighted  in  long  morning 
talks  over  his  pipe,  paused  a  moment  to  rest,  and 
Robert  sat  wondering  what  all  this  could  have  to 
do  with  him.  After  a  moment,  Hugh  Price  re 
sumed: 

"The  freemen  of  Virginia  number  more  than 
eight  thousand  horse,  and  are  bound  to  muster 
monthly  in  every  county,  to  be  ready  for  the  Ind 
ians;  but  the  Indians  are  absolutely  subjugated, 
so  there  need  be  no  fear  of  them.  There  are  five 
forts  in  Virginia,  mounted  with  thirty  cannon,  two 
on  James  River,  and  one  each  on  the  other  three 
rivers  of  York,  Rappahannock,  and  Potomac;  but 
we  have  neither  skill  nor  ability  to  maintain  them. 
"We  have  a  large  foreign  commerce.  Nearly  eighty 
ships  every  year  come  out  from  England  and  Ire 
land,  and  a  few  ketches  from  New  England,  in 


NEARING  THE  VERGE.  285 

defiance  of  the  navigation  laws,  which  the  people 
of  New  England  seem  more  willing  to  break  than 
are  the  people  of  Virginia.  We  build  neither 
small  nor  great  vessels  here,  for  we  are  most  obe 
dient  to  all  laws,  whilst  the  New  England  men 
break  them  with  impunity  and  trade  at  any  place 
to  which  their  interests  lead  them." 

"The  New  England  people  are  prosperous  and 
God-fearing,"  Eobert  ventured  to  put  in. 

"Yea;  but  do  they  not  harbor  outlaws  and  regi 
cides.  Do  not  Whalley  and  GoiTe  find  in  that 
country  aiders  and  abettors  in  their  criminal  pro 
ceeding?" 

"The  New  Englanders  are  friendly  to  the  edu 
cation  of  the  masses." 

At  this,  Hugh  Price  for  an  instant  lost  control 
of  his  passion.  His  master,  Sir  William  Berkeley, 
in  a  memorial  to  parliament,  had  just  said: 

"I  thank  God  that  there  are  no  free  schools, 
nor  printing,  and  I  hope  we  shall  not  have  them 
these  hundred  years;  for  learning  has  brought  dis 
obedience  into  the  world,  and  printing  has  divulged 
them,  and  libels  against  the  best  governments.  God 
keep  us  from  both!" 

Virginia  was  the  last  province  to  submit  to  the 
commonwealth  and  first  to  declare  for  the  returned 
monarch,  and  the  royalists  residing  in  Virginia  de 
spised  what  the  common  people  insisted  in  calling 


286  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

freedom.  The  commonwealth  had  driven  many 
excellent  royalists  from  England  to  Virginia,  and 
while  Hugh  Price  seeks  to  smother  his  anger  in 
clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  we  will  make  a  quotation 
from  John  Esten  Cooke's  "Virginia  "  in  regard  to 
some  of  them: 

"The  character  of  the  king's  men  who  came  over 
during  the  commonwealth  period  has  been  a  subject 
of  much  discussion.  They  have  been  called  even 
by  Virginia  writers  as  we  have  seen,  "butterflies  of 
aristocracy,'  who  had  no  influence  in  affairs  or  in 
giving  its  coloring  to  Virginia  society.  The  facts 
entirely  contradict  the  view.  They  and  their  de 
scendants  were  the  leaders  in  public  affairs,  and 
exercised  a  controlling  influence  upon  the  commu 
nity.  Washington  was  the  greatgrandson  of  a 
royalist,  who  took  refuge  in  Virginia  during  the 
commonwealth.  George  Mason  was  the  descendant 
of  a  colonel,  who  fought  for  Charles  II.  Edmond 
Pendleton  was  of  royalist  origin,  and  lived  and 
died  a  most  uncompromising  churchman.  Richard 
Henry  Lee,  who  moved  the  Declaration,  was  of 
the  family  of  Richard  Lee,  who  had  gone  to  invite 
Charles  II.  to  Virginia.  Peyton  and  Edmund 
Randolph,  president  of  the  First  Congress,  and  at 
torney-general  were  of  the  old  royalist  family. 
Archibald  Gary,  who  threatened  to  stab  Patrick 
Henry  if  he  were  made  dictator,  was  a  relative  of 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  287 

Lord  Falkland  and  heir  apparent  at  his  death  to 
the  barony  of  Hunsdon.  Madison  and  Monroe  were 
descended  from  the  royalist  families — the  first  from 
a  refugee  of  1G53,  the  last  from  a  captain  in  the 
army  of  Charles  I. ,  and  Patrick  Henry  and  Thomas 
Jefferson,  afterward  the  leaders  of  democratic  opin 
ion,  were  of  church  and  king  blood,  since  the  father 
of  Henry  was  a  loyal  officer  who  'drank  the  king's 
health  at  the  head  of  his  regiment ' ;  and  the 
mothers  of  both  were  Church  of  England  women, 
descended  from  royalist  families." 

With  this  brief  digression,  we  will  return  to 
Hugh  Price,  who,  having  smoked  himself  into  a 
calmer  state,  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  wife's  son 
with  a  look  designed  to  be  compassionate  and 
said: 

"Kobert,  it  is  the  great  love  I  bear  you,  which 
causes  my  anxiety  about  your  welfare.  I  trust 
that  your  recent  sojourn  in  New  England  hath  not 
established  the  seeds  of  republicanism  and  Puritan 
ism  in  your  heart.  I  trust  that  any  fallacious  ideas 
you  may  have  formed  during  your  absence  will  be 
come,  in  the  light  of  reason,  eradicated." 

"  He  who  is  not  susceptible  of  reason  is  unworthy 
of  being  called  a  reasonable  being,"  Robert  an 
swered. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  as  much.  Now 
permit  mo  to  return  to  the  original  subject.  Vir- 


288  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

ginia  is  011  the  verge  of  a  political  irruption,  and 
your  arrival  may  be  most  opportune  or  unfortu 
nate." 

"I  hardly  comprehend  you." 

"There  is  some  dissatisfaction  with  Governor 
Berkeley's  course  with  the  Indians.  Some  unrea 
sonable  people  think  that  he  should  prosecute  the 
war  against  them  more  vigorously." 

"Why  does  he  not?" 

"He  has  good  reasons." 

"What  are  they?" 

"He  has  dealings  with  the  Indians  in  which 
there  are  many  great  fortunes  involved.  To  go  to 
war  with  them  would  be  sure  to  lose  him  and  his 
friends  these  profits.  I  am  one  concerned  in  these 
speculations,  and  it  would  be  a  grievous  wrong  to 
me  were  the  war  prosecuted." 

Robert  knew  something  of  the  savage  outrages 
in  Virginia.  He  had  learned  of  them  while  on 
shipboard,  and  he  had  some  difficulty  in  restrain 
ing  his  rising  indignation,  so  it  was  with  consider 
able  warmth  that  he  answered: 

"  Do  you  think  your  gains  of  more  value  than 
the  human  lives  sacrificed  on  the  frontier?" 

"  Such  talk  is  treason,"  cried  Price.  "  It  sounds 
not  unlike  Bacon,  Cheeseman,  Lawrence  and 
Drummond.  Have  you  seen  them  since  your  re 
turn?" 


NEARIXG   THE  VERGE.  289 

"I  have  not,  nor  did  I  ever  hear  of  the  man 
Bacon  before." 

"Have  a  care!  You  would  do  well  to  avoid 
Drummond,  Cheeseman  and  Lawrence." 

"Why?" 

"They  are  suspected  of  republicanism.  Have 
naught  to  do  with  them." 

Some  people  are  so  constituted  that  to  refuse 
them  a  thing  increases  their  desire  for  it.  Eobert 
would  no  doubt  have  gone  to  hunt  up  his  former 
friends  and  rescuers  even  had  not  his  stepfather 
forbidden  his  doing  so,  but  now  that  Price  prohib 
ited  his  having  anything  to  do  with  them,  he  was 
doubly  determined  to  meet  them  and  learn  what 
they  had  to  say  about  the  threatened  trouble. 

His  mother  and.  sister  were  waiting  in  the  room 
below  with  anxiously  beating  hearts  to  know  the 
result  of  the  conference.  Sighs  of  relief  escaped 
both,  when  they  were  assured  that  the  meeting 
had  been  peaceful. 

"Hold  your  peace,  my  son,"  plead  the  mother, 
"  and  do  naught  to  bring  more  distress  upon  your 
poor  mother." 

Robert  realized  that  a  great  crisis  was  coming 
which  would  try  his  soul.  He  had  never  broken 
his  word  with  his  mother,  and  for  fear  that  his 
conscience  might  conflict  with  any  promise,  he  re 
solved  to  make  none,  so  he  evaded  her,  by  saying: 
19 


290  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"  Mother,    there    is   no  need    for  apprehension. 
We  are  in  no  danger." 

"But  your  stepfather  and  you?" 

"We  have  had  no  new  quarrel." 

He  was  about  to  excuse  himself  and  take  a  stroll 
about  Jamestown,  when  he  saw  a  short,  stout  little 
fellow,  resembling  an  apple  dumpling  mounted  on 
two  legs,  entering  the  door.  Though  years  had 
passed  since  he  had  seen  that  form,  he  knew  him 
at  sight.  Giles  Peram,  the  traitor  and  informer, 
had  grown  plumper,  and  his  round  face  seemed 
more  silly.  His  little  eyes  had  sunk  deeper  into 
his  fat  cheeks,  and  his  lips  were  puckered  as  if  to 
whistle.  He  was  attired  as  a  cavalier,  with  a 
scarlet  laced  coat,  a  waistcoat  of  yellow  velvet  and 
knee  breeches  of  the  cavalier,  with  silk  stock 
ings. 

"Good  day,  good  people,"  he  said,  squeezing 
his  fat  little  hands  together.  "I  hope  you  will 
excuse  this  visit,  for  I — I — heard  that  the  brother 
of  my — of  the  pretty  maid  had  come  home,  and 
hastened  to  congratulate  him." 

Robert  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the  contemptible 
little  fellow,  the  chief  cause  of  his  arrest  and  ban 
ishment  and,  turning  to  his  mother,  asked: 
"Do  you  allow  him  to  come  here?" 
"We  must,"  she  whispered. 
"Why?" 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  291 

"Hush,  son;  you  don't  understand  it  all.  I 
will  explain  it  to  you  soon." 

"You  may;  but  I  think  I  shall  change  matters, 
if  he  is  to  be  a  visitor." 

"He  is  the  governor's  secretary." 

"I  care  not  if  he  be  governor  himself;  he  has  no 
business  here." 

The  little  fellow,  whose  face  had  grown  alter 
nately  white  and  purple,  stood  squeezing  his  palms 
and  ejaculating: 

"Oh,  dear  me! — oh,  dear! — this  is  very  extraor 
dinary — what  can  this  mean?" 

"  Why  do  you  dare  enter  this  house?"  demanded 
Robert,  fiercely. 

"Oh,  dear,  I  don't  know — I  am  only  a  small 
fellow,  you  know." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Price  and  her  daughter  in 
terposed  and  begged  Robert,  for  the  peace  of  the 
family,  to  make  no  further  remonstrance.  He 
was  informed  that  Giles  Peram  was  the  favorite  of 
the  governor  and  Hugh  Price,  and  to  insult  him 
would  be  insulting  those  high  functionaries. 

"Why  is  he  here?  Whom  does  he  come  to 
see?" 

"Perhaps  it  is  Mr.  Price!"  the  mother  stam 
mered,  casting  a  glance  at  Peram,  who  quickly 
answered : 

"  Yes — yes,   it  is  Mr.    Price.      Will   you  show 


292  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

me  up  to  him?  I  have  a  very  important  message 
from  the  governor." 

He  was  trembling  in  every  limb,  for  he  expected 
to  be  hurled  from  the  house. 

Eobert  went  into  the  street  in  a  sort  of  maze. 

He  felt  a  strange  foreboding  that  all  was  not 
right,  and  that  Giles  Peram  had  some  deep  scheme 
on  foot. 

"I  will  kill  the  knave,  if  the  governor  should 
hang  me  for  it  the  next  moment,"  he  said  in  a  fit 
of  anger. 

It  was  not  long  before  Robert  was  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Lawrence,  where  he  met  his  friends  Drum- 
mond  and  Cheeseman.  The  three  were  engaged  in 
a  close  consultation  as  if  discussing  a  matter  of 
vital  importance.  They  did  not  at  first  recognize 
Eobert,  who  had  grown  to  manhood;  but  as  soon 
as  he  made  himself  known,  they  welcomed  him 
back  among  them,  and  warm-hearted  Cheeseman 
said: 

"I  know  full  well  you  can  be  relied  upon  in  this 
great  crisis." 

"What  is  the  crisis?"  Robert  asked. 

"  We  seem  on  the  verge  of  some  sort  of  a  revo 
lution.  Virginia  welcomed  Charles  II.  and  Gov 
ernor  Berkeley  as  the  frogs  welcomed  the  stork, 
and  they,  stork  like,  have  begun  devouring  us." 

"I  have  heard  something  of  the  grievances  of 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  293 

the  people  of  Virginia;  but  I  Jo  not  know  all  of 
them.      What  leads  up  to  this  revolution?" 

Mr.  Drummond  answered: 

"The  two  main  grievances  are  the  English  navi 
gation  acts  and  the  grant  of  authority  to  the  English 
noblemen  to  sell  land  titles  and  manage  other  mat 
ters  in  Virginia.  Why,  the  king  hath  actually 
given  to  Lord  Culpepper,  a  cunning  and  covetous 
member  of  the  commission,  for  trade  and  planta 
tions,  and  the  earl  of  Arlington,  a  heartless  spend 
thrift,  'all  the  dominion  of  land  and  water  called 
Virginia,  for  the  term  of  thirty-one  years.'  We 
are  permitted  by  the  trade  laws  to  trade  only  with 
England  in  English  ships,  manned  by  English 
men." 

"Is  it  such  a  great  grievance  to  the  people?" 

"  It  is  foolish  and  injurious  to  the  government 
as  well  as  to  ourselves.  The  system  cripples  the 
colon}',  and,  by  discouraging  production,  decreases 
the  English  revenue.  To  profit  from  Virginia 
they  grind  down  Virginia.  Instead  of  friends,  as 
we  expected,  on  the  restoration,  we  are  beset  by 
enemies,  who  seize  us  by  the  throat  and  cry:  'Pay 
that  thou  owest!'  " 

"  To  these  grievances  are  added  the  confinement 
of  suffrage  to  freeholders,  which  hath  disfranchised 
a  large  number  of  persons,"  put  in  Mr.  Drummond. 

"  Also  the  failure  of  the  governor  to  protect  the 


294  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

frontier  from  the  Indians,"  added  Mr.  Cheeseman. 
"  These  heathen  have  begun  to  threaten  the  colony. " 

"What  cause  have  they  for  taking  up  the  hatch 
et?"  asked  Kobert.  Mr.  Cheeseman  answered: 

"Their  jealousy  was  aroused  by  an  expedition 
made  by  Captain  Henry  Batte  beyond  the  moun 
tains.  Last  summer  there  was  a  fight  with  some 
of  the  Indians.  A  party  of  Doegs  attacked  the 
frontier  in  Stafford  and  committed  outrages,  and 
were  pursued  into  Maryland  by  a  company  of  Vir 
ginians  under  Major  John  Washington.  They 
stood  at  bay  in  an  old  palisaded  fort.  Six  Indians 
were  killed  while  bringing  a  flag  of  truce.  The 
governor  said  that  even  though  they  had  slain  his 
nearest  relatives,  had  they  come  to  treat  with  him 
he  would  have  treated  with  them.  The  Indian 
depredations  have  been  on  the  increase  until  the 
frontier  is  unsafe,  and  this  spring,  when  five  hun 
dred  men  were  ready  to  march  against  the  hea 
then,  Governor  Berkeley  disbanded  them,  saying 
the  frontier  forts  were  sufficient  protection  for  the 
people." 

"Are  they?"  asked  Kobert. 

"No." 

"  Then  why  does  he  not  send  an  army  against 
them?" 

"He  is  engaged  in  trafficking  with  the  heathen 
and  fears  that  he  may  lose,  financially,  by  a  war," 


NEARING   THE  VERGE.  295 

"Is  gain  in  traffic  of  more  consequence  than 
human  life?" 

""With  him,  it  is." 

Robert  was  a  lover  of  humanity,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  he  had  taken  sides.  He  was  a  republican 
and  his  fate  was  cast  with  Bacon,  even  before  he 
had  seen  this  remarkable  man. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    SWOED    OF    DEFENCE. 

He  stood — some  dread  was  on  his  face, 
Soon  hatred  settled  in  its  place  : 
It  rose  not  with  the  reddening  flush 
Of  transient  anger's  hasty  blush, 
But  pale  as  marble  o'er  the  tomb, 
Whose  ghastly  whiteness  aids  its  gloom. 

—BYRON. 

ROBERT  STEVENS  returned  home,  his  mind  filled 
with  strange,  wild  thoughts.  It  was  a  lovely  even 
ing  in  early  spring.  The  moon,  round  and  full, 
rose  from  out  its  watery  bed  and  shed  a  soft,  reful 
gent  glow  on  this  most  delightful  of  all  climes. 
Below  was  the  bay,  on  which  floated  many  barks, 
and  among  them  the  vessel  which  had  so  recently 
brought  him  from  Boston.  The  little  town  lay 
quiet  and  peaceful  on  the  hill  where  his  grand 
father  and  Captain  John  Smith  sixty  years  ago  had 
planted  it.  Beyond  were  the  dark  forests,  gloomy 
and  forbidding,  as  if  they  concealed  many  foes  of 
the  white  men;  but  those  woods  were  not  all  dark 
and  forbidding.  From  them  issued  the  sweet  per- 
296 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  297 

fumes  of  wild  flowers  and  the  songs  of  night  birds, 
such  as  are  known  in  Virginia. 

Young  Stevens  was  in  no  mood  to  be  impressed 
by  the  surrounding  scenery.  He  was  repeating 
under  his  breath : 

"  Tyranny  !  tyranny  !  tyranny  !  " 

Robert  loved  freedom  as  dearly  as  he  loved 
Ester  Goffe,  and  one  was  as  necessary  to  his  exist 
ence  as  the  other.  Now,  on  his  return  to  the  land 
of  his  nativity,  he  found  the  ruler,  once  so  mild 
and  popular,  grown  to  a  tyrant. 

"His  office  is  for  life,"  sighed  Robert.  "And 
too  much  power  hath  made  him  mad." 

Reaching  the  house,  he  heard  voices  in  the 
front  room  and  among  them  that  of  his  sister. 
She  was  greatly  agitated,  and  he  heard  her  saying: 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Peram.  I — don't  understand 
you." 

"Not  understand  me?  I  love  you,  sweet  maid. 
Do  I  not  make  myself  plain?" 

"No,  no;  do  not  talk  that  way;  pray  do  not." 

"But  you  must  promise,,  sweet  maid,  to  wed 
me.  I  adore  you." 

At  this  the  scoundrel  caught  her  hand,  and  Re 
becca  uttered  a  scream  of  terror.  Her  brother 
waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  leaped  boldly  into  the 
room  and,  seizing  Mr.  Giles  Peram  by  the  collar 
of  his  coat  and  the  waistband  of  his  costly  knee- 


298  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

breeches,  held  him  at  arm's  length,  and  began  ap 
plying  first  one  and  then  another  pedal  extremity 
to  his  anatomy. 

Mr.  Peram  squirmed  and  howled : 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  let  me  go!  This  is  very  ex 
traordinary!"  his  small  eyes  growing  dim  and  his 
fat  cheeks  pale. 

"You  knave!  How  dare  you  thus  annoy  my 
sister?"  cried  Robert,  still  kicking  the  rascal.  At 
last  he  led  him  to  the  door  and  flung  him  down  the 
front  steps,  where  he  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  ground 
with  such  force,  that  one  might  have  thought  his 
neck  was  broken.  Robert  turned  to  his  sister  and 
asked : 

"Where  is  mother?" 

"She  hath  gone  with  her  husband  to  Green- 
springs." 

"And  left  you  alone?" 

"It  was  thought  you  would  come." 

Robert  Stevens  felt  guilty  of  neglect  in  lingering 
too  long  in  the  company  of  men  whom  Berkeley 
would  regard  as  conspirators;  but  he  immediately 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  had  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  intended  departure  of  his 
mother,  or  that  his  sister  would  be  left  alone. 

"Have  you  suffered  annoyances  from  him  be 
fore?" 

"Yes." 


THE  S  WORD  OF  DEFENCE. 

"Does  mother  know  of  it?" 

"She  does." 

"And  makes  no  effort  to  protect  you?" 


299 


HE  FLUNG  HIM  DOWN  THE  FRONT   STEPS,   WHERE   HE   FELL  IN  A 
HEAP  ON  THE  GROUND. 

"She  does  all    she  can;    but — but   Mr.    Price 
sanctions  the  marriage." 


800  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"I  think  I  understand  why  you  were  left,"  said 
Robert,  bitterly;  "but  I  will  protect  you,  never 
fear.  That  disgusting  pigmy  of  humanity,  that 
silly  idiot  and  false  swearer  shall  not  harm  you. 
I  will  take  you  to  uncle's." 

"Alas,  he  is  dead.  He  was  appointed  governor 
to  Carolinia  and  died." 

"But  our  father's  sister  will  give  you  a  home, 
if  the  persecution  becomes  too  hard  for  you  to  en 
dure." 

With  such  assurances,  he  consoled  her  as  only 
a  stout,  brave  brother  can,  and  to  win  her  mind 
from  the  subject  that  tormented  her  most,  he  told 
her  of  Ester  Goffe  and  their  betrothal,  with  a  few 
of  his  wild  adventures  in  New  England,  where,  at 
this  time,  King  Philip's  war  was  raging  with  relent 
less  fury. 

Then  his  sister  retired,  and  he  sought  repose. 
Next  morning  his  mother  was  at  breakfast;  but 
Hugh  Price  was  absent.  He  asked  no  questions 
about  him.  Nothing  was  said  of  the  summary 
manner  in  which  he  had  disposed  of  Mr.  Peram, 
and  it  was  a  week  before  he  saw  his  sister's  unwel 
come  suitor. 

The  little  fellow  was  standing  on  a  platform 
making  a  speech  to  some  sailors  and  idlers.  The 
harangue  was  silly,  as  all  his  speeches  were. 

"If  the  king  wants  brave  soldiers  to  cope  with 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  301 

these  rebels,  let  him  send  me  to  command  them. 
Fain  would  I  lead  an  army  against  the  vagabonds. " 

At  this,  some  wag  in  the  crowd  made  a  remark 
about  the  diminutive  size  of  the  speaker,  and  the 
ludicrous  figure  he  would  cut  as  a  general,  at 
which  he  became  enraged  and  cried: 

"Begone,  knave!  Do  you  think  I  talk  to 
fools?  Nay,  I  speak  sense." 

"Which  is  very  extraordinary,"  put  in  the  wag. 
This  so  exasperated  the  orator,  that  he  fumed  and 
raged  about  the  platform  and,  not  taking  heed 
which  way  he  went,  tumbled  backward  off  the 
stage,  which  brought  his  harangue  to  an  inglo 
rious  close. 

Shouts  of  laughter  went  up  from  the  assembled 
group  at  his  mishap,  and  the  orator  retired  in  dis 
gust, 

Robert  Stevens  was  more  amused  than  any  other 
person  at  the  manner  in  which  Giles  Peram  had 
terminated  his  speech.  He  went  home  and  told 
his  sister,  who  laughed  as  much  as  he  did. 

That  night,  near  midnight,  Eobert  was  awakened 
from  a  sound  sleep  by  some  one  tapping  on  his 
window  lattice.  lie  rose,  at  first  hardly  able  to 
believe  his  senses;  but  the  moon  was  shining  quite 
brightly,  and  he  distinctly  saw  the  outline  of  a 
man  standing  outside  his  window,  and  there  came 
a  tapping  unquestionably  intended  to  wake  him. 


302  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"  Who  are  you?"  he  asked,  going  to  the  window. 

"I  am  Drummond,"  was  the  answer,  and  he  now 
recognized  his  father's  friend  standing  on  the  rounds 
of  a  ladder  which  he  had  placed  against  the  house 
at  the  side  of  his  window.  On  the  ground  below 
were  two  more  men,  whom  he  recognized  as  Mr. 
Checseman  and  the  thoughtful  Mr.  Lawrence. 

"What  will  you,  Mr.  Drummond?" 

"Come  forth;  we  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
Dress  for  a  journey  and  bring  what  weapons  you 
have,  as  you  may  need  them." 

Robert  hurriedly  dressed  and  buckled  on  a  breast 
plate  and  sword  with  a  brace  of  pistols.  He  had 
a  very  fine  rifle,  which  he  brought  away  with  him, 
as  well  as  a  supply  of  flints,  a  horn  full  of  powder 
to  the  very  throat,  and  plenty  of  bullets.  With 
these,  he  crept  from  the  house  and  joined  the  three 
men  under  the  tree.  Mr.  Drummond  said: 

"  The  Indians  have  again  risen  in  their  fury,  and 
attacked  the  frontier,  killing  many,  and  have  car 
ried  some  of  your  kinspeople  away  captives." 

Robert  was  roused.  He  was  in  a  frenzy  and 
vowed  that  if  no  one  else  would  go,  he  would  him 
self  pursue  the  savages  and  rescue  his  relatives. 

"You  will  have  aid,"  assured  Mr.  Drummond. 
"The  people  are  enraged  at  the  carelessness  of  the 
governor,  and  if  they  can  secure  a  leader,  they  will 
go  and  punish  the  Indians." 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  303 

"Leader  or  no  leader,  I  shall  go  to  the  rescue 
of  my  relatives.  My  father's  sister  and  children 
are  captives;  think  you  I  would  remain  at  home 
for  lack  of  a  leader?" 

"We  will  find  one  in  Nathaniel  Bacon." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Eobert,  as  if  he  still  feared 
the  willingness  or  ability  of  the  proposed  leader 
to  conduct  the  crusade  against  the  savages.  Mr. 
Drummond  answered: 

"Bacon  is  a  young  man  who  has  not  yet  arrived 
at  thirty  years.  His  family  belongs  to  the  English 
gentry,  for  he  is  a  cousin  of  Lord  Culpepper  and 
married  a  daughter  of  Sir  John  Duke.  He  run 
out  his  patrimony  in  England  and  hath,  by  his  lib 
erality,  exhausted  the  most  of  what  he  brought  to 
Virginia.  He  came  here  four  years  ago  and  set 
tled  at  Curies  on  the  upper  James  Kiver.  His 
uncle,  who  lives  in  Virginia,  was  a  member  of  the 
king's  council.  He  is  Nathaniel  Bacon,  senior,  a 
very  rich  politic  man  and  childless,  who  designs 
his  nephew,  Nathaniel  Bacon,  junior,  for  his 
heir." 

"Has  he  ability  for  a  leader?"  asked  Robert. 

"He  hath;  his  abilities  have  been  so  highly 
recognized,  that  he  was  appointed  soon  after  his 
arrival  to  a  place  in  the  council." 

This  was  a  position  of  great  dignity,  rarely  con 
ferred  upon  any  but  men  of  matured  age  and  large 


304  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

estate,  and  Bacon  was  only  twenty-eight,  and  his 
estate  small.  His  personal  character  is  seen  on 
the  face  of  his  public  career.  He  was  impulsive 
and  subject  to  fits  of  passion,  or,  as  the  old  writers 
say,  "of  a  precipitate  disposition." 

Bacon  came  near  being  the  Virginia  Cromwell. 
Though  he  never  wholly  redeemed  his  adopted 
country  from  tyranny,  he  put  the  miscreant  Berke 
ley  to  flight.  On  that  May  night  in  1676,  Ba 
con  was  at  his  Curies  plantation,  just  below  the 
old  city  of  Henricus,  living  quietly  on  his  estate 
with  his  beautiful  young  wife  Elizabeth.  He  had 
another  estate  in  what  is  now  the  suburbs  of  the 
present  city  of  Richmond,  which  is  to-day  known 
as  "Bacon's  Quarter  Branch."  His  servants  and 
overseers  lived  here,  and  he  could  easily  go  thither 
in  a  morning's  journey  on  his  favorite  dapple  gray, 
or  by  rowing  seven  miles  around  the  Dutch  Gap 
peninsula,  could  make  the  journey  in  his  barge. 
When  not  at  his  upper  plantation  or  in  attendance 
at  the  council,  he  was  living  the  quiet  and  unas 
suming  life  of  a  planter  at  Curies,  where  he  enter 
tained  his  neighbors,  and  being  by  nature  a  lover 
of  the  divine  rights  of  man,  he  boldly  denounced 
the  trade  laws,  the  Arlington  and  Culpepper  grants, 
and  the  governor  for  his  lukewarmness  in  defend 
ing  the  frontier  against  the  Indians.  Though  one 
of  the  gentry,  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  become 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  305 

a  favorite,  the  manifest  tyranny  of  Governor  Berke 
ley  so  shocked  his  sense  of  right  and  justice,  that 
he  was  ready  to  condemn  the  whole  system  of  gov 
ernment. 

When  the  report  came  to  him  that  the  Indians 
were  about  to  renew  their  outrages  on  the  upper 
waters  of  the  James  River,  Bacon  flew  into  a  rage 
and,  tossing  his  arms  about  in  a  wild  gesticulation, 
as  was  his  manner,  declared: 

"If  they  kill  any  of  my  people,  d — n  my  blood, 
I  will  make  war  on  them,  with  or  without  author 
ity,  commission  or  no  commission." 

The  hour  was  not  long  in  coming  when  his  reso 
lution  was  put  to  the  test. 

In  May,  1676,  two  days  before  Robert  was  awak 
ened  from  his  midnight  slumbers  by  Drummond, 
the  Indians  had  attacked  his  estate  at  the  Falls, 
killed  his  overseer  and  one  of  his  servants,  and 
were  going  to  carry  fire  and  hatchet  through  the 
frontier.  The  wild  news  flew  from  house  to  house. 
The  planters  and  frontiersmen  sprang  to  arms  and 
began  to  form  a  combination  against  these  danger 
ous  enemies. 

Governor  Berkeley  had  refused  to  commission 
any  one  as  commander  of  the  forces,  and  the  colo 
nists  were  without  a  head.  The  silly  old  egotist 
who  ruled  Virginia  declared  that  there  was  no  dan 
ger  from  the  Indians,  and  even  while  the  frontiers- 
20 


306  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

men  were  battling  with  them  for  their  lives,  he 
wrote  to  the  home  government  that  all  trouble  with 
the  natives  was  happily  over.  When  the  Virgin 
ians  assembled,  they  were  without  a  leader. 

It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Robert  was  awakened 
at  night,  as  we  have  seen,  and  asked  to  arm  him 
self  and  prepare  for  a  journey.  That  midnight 
journey  was  to  Curies  where  the  planters  were  as 
sembled  preparatory  to  making  a  descent  on  the 
enemy,  which  they  were  long  to  remember.  When 
Eobert  was  informed  of  the  plan,  he  asked  for  a 
moment's  time  to  confer  with  his  sister,  that  he 
might  notify  her  of  his  departure. 

He  knew  the  room  in  which  Rebecca  slept,  and 
going  to  her  door,  tapped  lightly  until  he  heard 
her  stirring,  and  the  voice  within  asked: 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  It  is  your  brother,"  he  whispered.  A  moment 
later  the  pretty  face  of  the  sleepy  girl,  surrounded 
by  the  neat  border  of  a  night-cap,  appeared,  and 
he  hastily  informed  her  that  the  Indians,  in  ravag 
ing  the  frontier,  had  carried  away  their  relatives, 
and  he  was  going  to  set  out  to  recover  them.  She 
knew  the  political  situation  of  the  country  and  the 
danger  of  the  governor's  wrath;  but  she  could  not 
detain  her  brother  from  such  a  mission. 

Having  explained  to  her  that  he  was  going  to 
recover  the  captives  and  knew  not  when  he  would 


THE  S\\ORD  OF  DEFENCE.  307 

return,  he  went  hurriedly  away  to  join  his  com 
panions.  A  horse  was  ready  saddled  for  him,  and 
they  rode  nearly  all  the  remainder  of  the  night, 
and  at  dawn  were  at  Curies  where  was  found  a 
considerable  number  of  riflemen.  As  they  came 
upon  the  group,  Robert  saw  a  young  man  with 
dark  eyes  and  hair,  a  face  that  was  ruddy,  yet  de 
noting  nervous  temperament.  He  was  tall  and 
graceful,  and  his  bold,  vehement  spirit  seemed  at 
once  to  take  fire,  and  his  enthusiasm  kindled  a 
conflagration  in  the  breasts  of  his  hearers.  He 
spoke  of  their  wrongs,  of  their  governor's  avarice, 
who  would  for  the  sake  of  his  traffic  with  the  Ind 
ians  sacrifice  their  lives.  They  were  not  assem 
bled  for  vengeance,  but  for  defence  against  a  ruth 
less  foe.  There  was  no  outward  expression  of 
rebellion  in  his  speech,  yet  he  enlarged  on  the 
grievances  of  the  time.  That  speech  was  an  omi 
nous  indication  of  coming  events. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  Eobert  asked. 

"Nathaniel  Bacon,"  wras  the  answer. 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  the  man 
so  noted  in  history  as  the  great  Virginia  rebel,  yet 
from  the  very  first  Robert  was  strangely  impressed 
with  the  earnestness  of  the  stranger. 

Bacon  had  been  chosen  as  commander  of  the 
Virginians,  and  had  sent  to  Berkeley  for  his  com 
mission.  The  governor  did  not  refuse  the  com- 


308  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

mission;  but  he  did  what  practically  amounted  to 
the  same,  failed  to  send  it.  It  was  to  this  that 
Bacon  was  referring  when  Eobert  Stevens  and  his 
friends  joined  the  group. 

"Instead  of  sending  the  commission  which  I  de 
sired,  he  hath  politely  notified  me  that  the  times 
are  troubled,"  Bacon  said,  "that  the  issue  of  my 
business  might  be  dangerous,  that,  unhappily,  my 
character  and  fortunes  might  become  imperiled  if  I 
proceed.  The  commission  is  refused;  his  compli 
mentary  expressions  amount  to  nothing;  the  veil 
is  too  thin  to  impose  on  us;  the  Indians  are  still 
ravaging  the  frontier.  They  have  been  furnished 
with  firelocks  and  powder — by  whom?  By  the 
governor  in  his  traffic  with  them.  If  }^ou,  good 
housekeepers,  will  sustain  me,  I  will  assault  the 
savages  in  their  stronghold." 

All,  with  one  accord,  assented  and  declared 
themselves  willing  to  be  led  to  the  assault.  Bacon 
was  at  once  chosen  as  the  commander  of  the  army. 
When  he  learned  that  Robert  and  his  friends  had 
come  from  Jamestown  to  aid  the  people  on  the 
frontier,  he  came  to  welcome  them  to  his  ranks  and 
to  assure  them  that  he  appreciated  their  courage 
and  humanity. 

"  I  have  relatives  and  friends  who  are  captives 
of  the  Indians,"  Robert  explained,  "and  I  shall 
rescue  them  or  perish  in  the  effort." 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  309 

"Bravo!  spoken  like  an  Englishman.  We  are 
kindling  a  fire  which  may  yet  consume  royalty  in 
Virginia." 

Nathaniel  Bacon  was  politic,  however,  and  be 
fore  setting  out  against  the  Indians  dispatched 
another  messenger  to  Jamestown  for  a  commission 
as  commander.  The  game  between  the  man  of 
twenty-eight  and  the  man  of  seventy  had  begun. 
Both  possessed  violent  tempers;  both  were  proud 
and  resolute,  and  the  man  of  seventy  was  wholly 
unscrupulous.  The  prospects  were  good  for  a  bit 
ter  warfare.  The  old  cavalier  attempted  to  end  it 
by  striking  a  sudden  blow  at  his  adversary.  Bacon 
and  his  army  were  on  their  march  through  the  for 
est  to  the  seat  of  Indian  troubles,  when  an  emissary 
of  the  governor  came  in  hot  haste  with  a  proclama 
tion,  denouncing  Nathaniel  Bacon  and  his  deluded 
followers  as  rebels,  and  ordered  them  to  disperse. 
If  they  persisted  in  their  illegal  proceedings,  it 
would  be  at  their  peril. 

Governor  Berkeley  could  not  have  chosen  a  more 
effective  way  of  crippling  the  expedition.  The 
resolution  of  the  most  wealthy  of  the  armed  house 
keepers  were  shaken.  They  feared  a  confiscation 
more  than  hanging  or  decapitation.  One  hundred 
and  seventy  of  the  followers  of  Bacon  obeyed  the 
order  and  abandoned  the  expedition. 

Fifty-seven      horsemen      remained      steadfast. 


310  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Among  them  was  Robert  Stevens,  who  was  young 
and  reckless  as  his  daring  leader. 

The  Indians  had  entrenched  themselves  on  a  hill 
east  of  the  present  city  of  Richmond,  and  when 
the  whites  approached  them,  they  as  usual  sent 
forth  a  flag  of  truce  to  parley  with  them.  The 
men  who  remained  with  Bacon  were  nearly  all 
frontiersmen  who  had  suffered  more  or  less  from 
the  savages. 

John  Whitney,  a  frontiersman,  had  had  his  home 
destroyed,  and  his  wife  and  child  slain  by  the  In 
dians.  While  the  parley  was  going  on,  John  dis 
covered  the  Indian  who  had  slain  his  wife  and 
child,  and,  recognizing  their  scalps  hanging  at  the 
savage's  girdle,  he  levelled  his  rifle  at  the  savage 
and  shot  him  dead. 

The  Indians  gave  utterance  to  yells  of  rage,  and 
from  the  hill-top  poured  down  a  volley  at  the  white 
men;  but  the  bullets  and  arrows  passed  quite  over 
their  heads.  Bacon  saw  that  the  moment  for  a 
charge  had  arrived,  and,  raising  himself  in  his 
stirrups,  he  shouted: 

"There  are  the  devils  who  slew  your  friends 
and  kindred.  It  is  their  lives  or  ours.  Strike  for 
vengeance!  Charge!" 

Not  a  man  faltered.  Never  did  husbands, 
fathers  and  brothers  dash  forward  into  battle  more 
fearlessly.  Each  man  thought  only  of  his  own  lit- 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  311 

tie  home  exposed  to  the  ravages  of  the  enemy,  and 
the  whistling  of  balls  and  arrows  did  not  deter 
him.  The  enemy  were  entrenched  in  a  fort  of 
logs.  They  outnumbered  the  Virginians  ten  to 
one;  but  the  latter  charged  nobly  forward,  plung 
ing  into  the  stream  which  lay  between  them  and 
the  fort,  and  wading  through  the  water  shoulder 
deep. 

"There  are  the  enemy;  storm  the  fort!"  cried 
Bacon.  Ever  in  the  van,  mounted  on  his  dapple 
gray,  where  bullets  flew  thickest,  he  was  here  and 
there  and  everywhere,  urging  and  encouraging  the 
men  by  word  and  example.  They  needed  little 
encouragement,  for  the  atrocities  of  the  Indian  had 
fired  the  blood  of  the  Virginians,  until  the  most 
timid  among  them  became  brave  as  a  lion. 

Robert  Stevens  kept  at  the  side  of  Bacon,  imi 
tating  his  example.  Robert  was  mounted  on  an 
English  bay,  a  famous  fox-hunter,  and  accustomed 
to  leaping  barriers.  Bacon  knew  nothing  of  the 
science  of  Indian  warfare,  even  if  he  knew  any 
thing  of  war  at  all.  Indian  tactics  are  entirely 
different  from  civilized  warfare  and  require  a  dif 
ferent  mode  to  meet  them;  but  though  the  hero  of 
Virginia  four  years  before  was  thoroughly  ignorant 
of  Indians,  he  seemed  to  acquire  the  necessary 
knowledge  in  a  moment.  He  was  the  man  for  the 
occasion. 


312  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Side  by  side  Bacon  and  Eobert  dashed  at  the 
palisade  and  leaped  their  horses  over  it.  They 
emptied  their  rifles  and  fired  their  pistols  at  such 
close  range,  that  the  effect  was  murderous.  Others 
followed,  leaping  down  among  the  savages,  and 
opened  fire.  When  guns  and  pistols  had  belched 
forth  their  deadly  contents,  the  more  deadly  sabre 
was  drawn,  and  the  Indians  were  slain  without 
mercy. 

The  buildings  were  fired,  and  the  four  thousand 
pounds  of  powder,  which  the  Indians  had  procured 
of  the  governor,  were  blown  up.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  Indians  were  slain,  while  Bacon  lost  only  three 
of  his  own  party.  This  victory  is  famous  in  his 
tory  as  the  "  Battle  of  Bloody  Run,"  so  called  from 
the  fact  that  the  blood  of  the  Indians  ran  down 
into  the  stream  beneath  the  hill.  Among  some  of 
the  captives  taken  by  the  Indians,  Robert  Stevens 
found  his  relatives  and  restored  them  to  their  homes 
and  friends. 

The  Indians  were  routed  and  sent  flying  toward 
the  mountains,  and  Bacon  went  back  toward  Curies. 

Meanwhile  Berkeley  was  not  idle.  He  raised  a 
troop  of  horse  to  pursue  and  conquer  the  rebels; 
but  to  his  alarm  he  found  the  people  quite  out 
spoken  and,  in  fact,  in  open  rebellion  in  the  lower 
tiers  of  counties. 

When  the  burgesses  met  in  June,  Bacon  em- 


THE  SWORD  OF  DEFENCE.  313 

barked  in  his  sloop  and  went  to  Jamestown,  taking 
Robert  Stevens  and  about  thirty  friends  with  him. 
No  sooner  had  the  sloop  landed  than  the  cannon  of 
a  ship  were  trained  on  it,  and  Bacon  was  arrested 
and  taken  to  Governor  Berkeley  in  the  statehouse. 

The  haughty  governor  was  somewhat  awed  by 
the  turmoil  and  confusion  which  prevailed  through 
out  Jamestown,  and  feared  to  appear  stern  with  so 
popular  a  man  as  Bacon. 

"  Mr.  Bacon,  have  you  forgot  to  be  a  gentle 
man?"  the  governor  asked. 

"No,  may  it  please  your  honor,"  Bacon  an 
swered,  quite  coolly. 

"Then  I  will  take  your  parole,"  said  Berkeley. 

Bacon  was  consequently  paroled,  though  not 
given  privilege  to  leave  Jamestown.  There  was 
much  murmuring  and  discontent  among  the  people, 
who  vowed  that  they  had  only  "appealed  to  the 
sword  as  a  defence  against  the  bloody  heathen." 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE    MYSTERIOUS    STRANGER. 

"  Do  you  know  the  old  man  of  the  sea,  of  the  sea? 

Have  you  met  with  that  dreadful  old  man? 
If  you  haven't  been  caught,  you  will  be,  you  will  be ; 
For  catch  you  he  must  and  he  can. " 

— HOLMES. 

ROBERT  STEVENS  and  twenty  others  captured 
with  Bacon  were  kept  in  prison.  His  mother  and 
sisters  visited  him,  but  he  saw  nothing  of  his  step 
father.  One  evening  he  was  informed  that  a  gen 
tleman  wished  to  see  him,  and  immediately  Mr. 
Giles  Peram  was  admitted  to  his  cell. 

"How  are  you,  Robert — ahem?"  began  Giles. 
"  This  is  most  extraordinary,  I  assure  you,  and  you 
have  my  sympathy,  and  you  may  not  believe  it, 
no,  you  may  not  believe  it,  but  I  am  sorry  for 
you." 

"You  can  spare  yourself  any  tears  on  my  ac 
count,"  the  prisoner  answered,  casting  a  look  of 
scorn  and  indignation  on  the  proud  little  fellow 
who  strutted  before  him  with  ill-concealed  exulta 
tion.  Without  noticing  the  irony  in  the  words  of 
314 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  315 

the  prisoner,  Giles  puffed  up  with  the  importance 
of  his  mission,  went  on: 

"Robert,  I  have  come  to  YOU  with  a  singular 
proposition.  Now  you  are  very  anxious  to  know 
what  it  is,  are  you  not?" 

"I  have  some  curiosity;  yet  1  have  no  doubt 
that  I  shall  treat  your  proposition  with  contempt." 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't.  Your  life  depends  on 
your  acceptance." 

"  I  can  best  answer  you  when  I  know  what  your 
proposition  is." 

"  It  is  this.  I  am  enamoured  of  your  sister.  She 
rejects  my  suit.  Now,  if  she  will  consent  to  be 
come  my  wife,  you  shall  have  your  liberty." 

It  was  well  for  Peram  that  Robert  Stevens  was 
chained  to  the  wall,  or  it  would  have  fared  hard 
for  the  little  fellow.  Giles  kept  beyond  the  length 
of  the  chain  and  the  prisoner  was  powerless.  His 
only  weapon  was  his  tongue;  but  with  that  he 
poured  out  the  vials  of  his  wrath  so  copiously  on 
the  wretch,  that  he  retired  in  disgust. 

Events  soon  shaped  themselves  so  as  to  give 
Robert  his  liberty.  Through  the  intercession  of 
Bacon's  cousin,  Nathaniel  Bacon,  senior,  the  gov 
ernor  consented  to  pardon  Bacon  the  rebel,  if  he 
would,  on  his  knees,  read  a  written  confession  of 
his  error  and  ask  forgiveness.  This  confession 
was  made  June  5,  107(5.  Between  the  last  days 


316  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

of  May  and  the  5th  of  June,  Bacon  had  been  de 
nounced  as  a  rebel ;  had  marched  and  defeated  the 
savages;  had  stood  for  the  burgesses  and  appeared 
at  Jamestown;  had  been  arrested  and  quickly  pa 
roled,  and  was  now,  on  the  5th  of  June,  to  confess 
on  his  knees  that  he  was  a  great  offender.  The 
old  cavalier  Berkeley  was  going  to  make  an  impos 
ing  scene  of  it.  The  governor  sent  the  burgesses 
a  message  to  attend  him  in  the  council  chamber 
below,  on  public  business,  and  when  they  came, 
he  addressed  them  on  the  Indian  troubles,  specially 
denouncing  the  murder  of  the  six  chiefs  in  Mary 
land,  though  Colonel  V^shington,  who  commanded 
the  forces  on  that  expedition,  was  present.  With 
pathetic  emphasis  the  governor  declared: 

"Had  they  killed  my  grandfather  and  grand 
mother,  my  father  and  mother  and  all  my  friends, 
yet  if  they  came  to  treat  of  peace,  they  ought  to 
have  gone  in  peace."  Having  finished  this  ha 
rangue,  designed  for  the  humiliation  of  John  Wash 
ington  and  his  followers,  he  rose  and  with  grim 
humor  said: 

"If  there  be  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  there  is  joy  now,  for 
we  have  a  penitent  sinner  come  before  us.  Call 
Mr.  Bacon." 

Bacon  carne  in,  holding  the  paper  in  his  trem 
bling  hand,  and,  kneeling,  read  his  confession.  It 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  317 

evidently  grieved  Ins  lion  heart  to  do  so,  for  at 
times  lie  faltered,  and  his  voice,  usually  clear  and 
distinct,  was  half  smothered.  When  he  had  fin 
ished,  Sir  William  Berkeley  said: 

"God  forgive  you;  I  forgive  you,"  and  three 
times  he  repeated  the  words. 

"And  all  that  were  with  him?"  asked  Colonel 
Cole,  one  of  the  council. 

Hugh  Price,  who  was  present,  was  about  to  in 
terpose  some  objection;  but  before  he  could  say 
anything,  Sir  William  Berkeley  answered: 

"Yes,  and  all  that  were  with  him."  As  Bacon 
rose  from  his  knees,  the  governor  took  his  hand 
and  added:  "Mr.  Bacon,  if  you  will  live  civilly 
but  till  next  quarter  day,  but  till  next  quarter  day, 
I'll  promise  to  restore  you  to  your  place  there," 
pointing  to  the  seat  which  Bacon  generally  occu 
pied  during  the  sessions  of  the  council. 

The  order  to  release  the  prisoners  was  at  once 
given,  and  Robert  Stevens  was  again  a  free  man. 
He  hastened  to  the  home  of  his  mother  and  sister, 
where  he  met  his  stepfather,  whose  conduct  was  so 
odious  to  the  young  man  that  he  took  up  his  abode 
at  "the  house  of  public  entertainment  kept  by 
the  wife  of  a  certain  thoughtful  Mr.  Lawrence." 
Bacon  was  also  living  here  under  his  parole,  for  it 
was  generally  understood  that  he  had  not  been 
given  permission  to  leave  the  city. 


318  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

One  morning,  just  as  the  excitement  incident  to 
the  arrest  and  confession  of  Bacon  had  begun  to 
subside,  a  large  ship  entered  the  river  and  cast  an 
chor  before  the  town.  The  ship  flew  English  colors 
and  was  a  veritable  floating  palace.  There  are  few 
crafts  afloat  even  at  this  day  that  equal  it  in  ele 
gance.  It  had  been  built  by  the  most  skilful  car 
penters  in  the  world  at  that  time,  and  the  long, 
tapering  masts,  the  deck  and  bows  were  more  of 
the  modern  style  than  ships  of  that  day. 

Her  cabins  were  large,  roomy  and  fitted  up  with 
more  than  Oriental  splendor.  There  were  Turkish 
carpets,  and  golden  candelabra.  Wealth,  strength, 
ease  and  grace  were  evident  in  every  part  of  the 
strange  craft.  No  such  vessel  had  ever  before  en 
tered  James  River.  The  ship  was  well  armed,  and 
the  crew  thoroughly  disciplined.  There  was  a  long 
brass  cannon  in  the  forecastle,  with  carronades 
above  and  below,  for  she  was  a  double-decker  with 
a  row  of  guns  above  and  below,  and  at  that  time 
such  a  formidable  craft  was  able  to  destroy  half  of 
the  English  navy.  The  name  of  the  vessel  was 
not  in  keeping  with  her  general  appearance.  In 
spite  of  the  elegance  and  magnificence  of  the  ves 
sel,  on  her  stern,  in  great  black  letters,  was  the 
awful  word: 

"DESPAIR." 

What  strange  freak  had  induced  the  owner  of 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  319 

this  wonderful  craft  to  give  it  such  a  melancholy 
name?  Jamestown  was  thrown  into  a  flutter  of 
excitement  at  first,  and  whispered  rumors  went 
about  that  the  vessel  was  a  pirate.  If  it  should 
prove  a  pirate,  they  knew  it  would  be  able  to  de 
stroy  the  town  and  all  their  fleet.  This  story  was 
perhaps  started  by  some  idlers,  who  sought  to  go 
aboard  when  the  vessel  first  arrived,  but  were  re 
fused  admittance  to  her  deck. 

Though  not  permitted  to  go  aboard,  those  loafers 
had  seen  enough  to  start  the  report  that  the  vessel 
was  a  gilded  palace,  ornamented  with  gold.  Two 
days  had  elapsed,  and  no  one  had  come  ashore,  nor 
had  any  visitor  been  admitted  to  the  ship,  and 
the  governor,  growing  uneasy  about  the  strange 
craft,  resolved  to  know  something  of  it,  so  he  sent 
the  sheriff  to  ascertain  her  mission. 

The  captain  of  the  ship,  who  gave  his  name  as 
George  Small,  answered: 

"  This  vessel  is  the  property  of  Sir  Albert  St. 
Croix,  a  wealthy  merchant  from  the  East  Indies, 
who  will  this  day  visit  the  governor  and  make 
known  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Jamestown." 

That  day,  a  boat  fit  for  a  king  was  lowered,, 
and  eight  or  ten  sailors,  richly  dressed,  took  their 
places  at  the  oars.  A  man,  whose  long  white  hair 
hung  about  his  shoulders  in  snowy  profusion,  and 
whose  beard,  white  as  the  swan's  down,  came  to 


320  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

his  breast,  descended  to  the  boat  and  was  rowed 
ashore. 

When  he  was  landed,  the  sailors  returned  with 
the  boat  to  the  ship,  leaving  him  on  the  beach. 
The  old  man  was  richly  dressed.  He  blazed  with 
jewels  such  as  a  king  might  envy,  and  the  hilt  of 
his  sword  was  of  pure  gold.  He  wore  a  brace  of 
slender  pistols,  whose  silver-mounted  butts  pro 
truded  from  his  belt. 

The  dark  cloak  about  his  shoulders  was  Puri 
tanic;  but  the  elegance  of  his  attire  and  the  profu 
sion  of  jewelry  which  he  wore  proved  that  he  was 
not  of  that  order.  His  low-crowned  hat  was  three- 
cornered,  trimmed  with  lace  and  the  brim  held  in 
place  by  three  blazing  diamonds.  It  was  something 
like  the  cocked  hat,  which,  half  a  century  later, 
was  worn  by  most  of  the  gentry. 

After  watching  the  boat  until  it  returned  to  the 
vessel,  the  old  man  went  toward  the  statehouse. 
He  spoke  to  no  one  on  the  way,  though  he  paused 
under  a  large  oak  about  half  way  between  the  state 
house  and  the  beach,  and  gazed  long  on  the  town 
and  surrounding  country. 

The  tree  beneath  which  he  paused  was  the  same 
under  whose  wide  spreading  branches  Captain  John 
Smith  had  halted  to  take  a  last  farewell  look  of  Vir 
ginia,  before  embarking  for  England.  The  spot 
had  already  grown  historic. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  321 

The  people  were  gathered  in  groups  on  the 
streets  gazing  at  the  stranger,  and  various  were  the 
comments  about  him.  He  noticed  the  excitement 
his  advent  had  created,  and  walked  quickly  up  the 
street  to  the  statehouse.  Though  his  hair  and  beard 
were  white  as  snow,  his  frame  was  vigorous  and 
strong,  and  his  step  had  about  it  the  elasticity  of 
youth.  His  brow  was  furrowed  with  care  rather 
than  time,  and  his  eye  seemed  still  to  flash  with  the 
fires  of  young  manhood.  Nevertheless  he  was  an 
old  man.  Every  one  who  saw  him  on  that  mem 
orable  morning  pronounced  him  a  prodigy. 

Arriving  at  the  statehouse,  he  asked  for  the 
governor,  and  was  at  once  shown  to  Sir  William, 
who,  gazing  at  him  in  wonder,  asked: 

"Whence  came  you,  stranger?" 

"  From  Liverpool. " 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  Sir  Albert  St.  Croix,  the  owner  of  the  good 
ship  Despair,  which  lies  at  anchor  in  your  bay." 

"But  surely  you  are  not  of  England?" 

"I  am  an  Englishman;  but  I  have  spent  most 
of  my  life  abroad,  and  for  many  years  have  been  in 
the  East  Indies.  I  amassed  a  fortune  in  diamonds 
and  jewels  and,  being  in  the  decline  of  life,  de 
cided  to  travel  over  the  world.  For  that  purpose, 
I  build ed  me  a  ship  to  suit  and  engaged  a  crew 
faithful  even  unto  death." 
21 


322  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  governor's  countenance  brightened,  and  he 
answered : 

"  Sir  Albert,  I  am  pleased  to  have  you  in  James 
town.  Your  arrival  is  quite  opportune,  for  I  am 
most  grievously  annoyed  with  a  threatened  rebel 
lion." 

Sir  Albert  fixed  his  great  blue  eyes  on  the  gov 
ernor  and  answered: 

"  Sir  William  Berkeley,  it  is  not  my  purpose  to 
interfere  with  any  political  convulsions.  I  am 
simply  a  transient  visitor.  My  home  is  my  ship." 

"  But  your  ship  is  an  English  craft,  and  your 
crew  are  Englishmen?" 

"That  is  true." 

"  And  as  governor  of  the  province,  I  will  com 
mand  them  should  their  services  be  needed." 

There  was  a  smile  on  the  sad  face  of  Sir  Albert, 
as  he  answered : 

"It  would  not  avail  you,  governor,  for  my  cap 
tain  and  crew  know  no  other  master  save  myself, 
no  will  save  mine." 

"But  the  king?" 

"  They  serve  me,  and  I  serve  the  king.  I  helped 
Charles  II.  out  of  a  financial  strait,  and,  for  that, 
an  order  from  our  dread  sovereign  and  lord  has 
been  issued,  exempting  my  crew,  myself  and  my 
vessel  from  any  kind  of  military  duty  for  the  term 
of  fifty  years." 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  323 

The  old  man  drew  from  his  coat  pocket  a  legal 
document  proving  his  assertion. 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  Virginia  before?"  the 
governor  asked. 

"  Yes,  many  years  ago.  All  things  have  changed 
since  then." 

"How  long  will  you  stay?" 

"I  know  not.  At  any  moment  I  may  decide  to 
leave,  and  should  I  do  so,  I  will  sail  at  once.  I 
linger  no  longer  at  any  one  place  than  my  fancy 
detains  me." 

"What  is  your  wish,  Sir  Albert?" 

"  I  only  ask  the  privilege  of  going  whithersoever 
I  please  in  your  domain,  without  let  or  hindrance," 
and  he  produced  an  order  from  King  Charles  II., 
which  commanded  Governor  Berkeley  to  grant  him 
such  privilege. 

"This  is  strange,"  said  the  governor.  "An  ar 
mament  such  as  yours  might  overthrow  the  colony 
at  this  unsettled  time." 

"I  shall  take  no  part  in  the  disturbance,  unless 
it  affects  me  personally."  The  governor  issued  a 
passport  for  Sir  Albert  St.  Croix,  vessel  and  crew, 
and  the  stranger  left  the  statehouse.  He  walked 
up  the  hill,  passing  the  jail,  and  gazing  about  on 
the  houses,  as  if  he  wished  to  make  himself  ac 
quainted  with  the  town.  No  end  of  comment 
was  excited  by  his  appearance,  and  a  thousand 


324  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

conjectures  were  afloat  as  to  the  object  of  his 
visit. 

For  n  moment,  the  white-haired  stranger  paused 
before  the  public  house  in  which  Bacon  was  at 
that  moment  reposing.  Some  thought  he  was 
going  in;  but  he  passed  on  and  addressed  no  one, 
until  he  came  to  Robert  Stevens,  who  stood  at  the 
side  of  a  well,  under  a  wide  spreading  chestnut 
tree. 

"  Will  you  draw  me  some  water?  for  I  am  athirst," 
said  the  stranger. 

Robert  did  so,  and  handed  the  stranger  a  drink 
from  an  earthen  mug,  which  was  kept  by  the  town 
pump  for  the  accommodation  of  the  public.  After 
drinking,  the  old  man  returned  the  mug  and,  fixing 
his  eyes  on  the  young  man,  asked: 

"Have  you  lived  long  in  Virginia?" 

"I  was  born  here,  good  sir." 

"Then  you  must  know  all  of  Jamestown?" 

"Not  so  much,  good  sir,  as  I  might,  if  I  had 
not  passed  a  few  years  in  New  England." 

"Your  home  is  still  here?" 

With  a  sigh,  Robert  answered: 

"It  is,  though  I  do  not  live  in  it  now." 

Robert  evidently  was  alluding  to  some  domes 
tic  difficulties,  and  the  stranger  very  considerately 
avoided  asking  him  any  further  questions  about 
himself.  He  asked  about  the  proprietors  of  sev- 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  325 

eral  houses  and  gained  something  of  the  history  of 
the  town  and  people. 

All  expected  that  Sir  Albert  would  return  to  his 
vessel;  but  he  did  not.  Instead,  he  wandered  over 
the  hill  into  the  wood  and  sat  down  upon  a  log. 
Robert  saw  him  sitting  there,  with  his  white  head 
bowed  between  his  hands,  looking  so  sad  and 
broken-hearted,  despite  all  his  wealth,  that  his 
heart  went  out  to  him.  He  was  for  hours  thus 
communing  with  nature,  then  came  back  to  the 
town  and  went  on  board  the  Despair. 

After  that,  he  frequently  came  ashore  and  strolled 
about  the  town,  seldom  speaking,  even  when  ad 
dressed.  But  for  the  letters  from  the  governor  and 
the  king,  he  might  have  been  arrested  on  suspicion. 
He  came  and  went  at  will,  occasionally  pausing  to 
ask  a  question  which  was  so  guarded,  that  no  one 
could  suspect  that  he  was  interested  in  any  particu 
lar  subject.  One  day,  as  he  was  passing  the  state- 
house,  Giles  Peram,  who,  with  the  powdered  wig, 
lace,  and  ruffles  of  a  cavalier,  was  strutting  before 
some  of  the  court  officials,  turning  his  eyes  with  an 
ill-bred  stare  on  the  stranger  as  he  passed,  remarked : 

"Oh,  how  extraordinary!" 

Sir  Albert  paused  and,  fixing  his  great  blue  eyes 
on  the  diminutive  egotist,  said: 

"Marry!  the  time  of  king's  fools  hath  past;  yet 
the  kino;  of  fools  still  reigns." 


326  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Giles  Peram  felt  the  retort  most  keenly,  and,  as 
usual,  raged  and  fumed  and  swore  vengeance  after 
the  stranger  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  Sir 
Albert  strolled  down  to  a  pond  or  lake  that  was 
near  to  the  town,  on  the  banks  of  which  was  an 
ancient  ducking-stool.  Three  or  four  idlers  were 
sitting  on  the  bank,  and  of  one  of  them  he  asked: 

"For  what  is  that  ugly  machine  used?" 

"It  is  a  ducking-stool  for  scolds,"  was  the  an 
swer.  The  fellow,  feeling  complimented  at  being 
addressed  by  the  celebrated  stranger,  went  on, 
"Well  do  I  remember,  good  sir,  when  and  for 
whom  the  stool  was  constructed." 

"  For  whom  was  it  built  ?"  asked  Sir  Albert. 

"It  was  made  for  Ann  Linkon,  who  had  slan 
dered  goodwife  Stevens  as  was,  but  who  has, 
since  her  husband  was  drowned  at  sea,  married 
Hugh  Price,  the  royalist  and  friend  of  the  gov 
ernor.  Oh,  how  Ann  did  scold  and  rave,  and  it 
was  a  merry  sight  to  see  her  plunged  beneath  the 
water." 

.  The  stranger  asked  some  questions  about  Ann 
Linkon  and  was  informed  that  she  had  died  several 
years  before.  "But  to  the  last,"  the  narrator  re 
sumed,  "  she  hated  Dorothe  Stevens.  She  rejoiced 
when  poverty  assailed  her,  brought  on  by  her  own 
extravagance,  after  her  husband  had  gone  away. 
Then  when  goodwife  Stevens  received  the  fortune 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  32? 

from  the  grandfather  of  her  dead  husband,  the  old 
Spaniard  at  St.  Augustine,  she  again  went  among 
the  cavaliers  and  was  enabled  to  marry  Hugh  Price. 
It  is  not  a  happy  life  she  leads  now,  though,  for 
there  is  continual  trouble  between  the  husband  and 
the  children,  so  she  is  grievously  harassed  in  mind 
continually." 

Sir  Albert  listened  as  an  uninterested  person 
might,  then  asked  some  questions  about  Hugh  Price 
and  his  good  wife  Dorothe,  and  the  refractory  chil 
dren,  who  were  causing  so  much  trouble.  He 
found  the  Virginian  voluble  and  willing  to  impart 
all  the  information  he  had;  but  he  grew  heartily 
tired  of  the  loafer  and  at  last  left  him. 

No  one  was  more  interested  in  the  stranger  from 
across  the  sea  than  Eebecca  Stevens.  She  had  not 
seen  him;  but  she  had  heard  so  much  of  him  from 
her  brother  and  others,  that  her  girlish  curiosity 
was  aroused.  One  evening,  as  she  was  taking  her 
favorite  walk  about  the  village,  having  wandered 
farther  than  she  intended,  she  found  herself  in  the 
wood  above  the  town,  near  the  old  building,  which 
Captain  John  Smith  had  called  the  glass-house. 
She  turned  and  began  at  once  retracing  her  steps, 
for  already  the  sun  had  set,  and  the  shades  of  night 
were  gathering  over  the  landscape.  She  was  in 
sight  of  the  church,  when  a  short,  fat  little  man 
suddenly  met  her.  He  was  out  of  breath,  as  if 


328  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

he  had  been  running.     In  the  gathering  twilight 
she  recognized  him  as  her  persecutor. 

"Ah!  Miss  Stevens,  this  is  truly  extraordinary. 
Believe  me,  this  meeting  is  quite  providential,  for 
it  enables  me  to  pour  into  your  ear  my  tale  of  love." 

"Mr.  Peram,  begone,  leave  me!" 

"Oh,  no,  my  dear,  I  will  never  let  you  go  un 
til  you  have  consented  to  take  my  name." 

In  his  zeal,  the  ungentlemanly  wooer  seized  her 
hand,  and  his  vicious  little  eyes  glared  at  her  with 
such  ferocity,  that  she  gave  utterance  to  a  shriek 
of  fear.  The  tread  of  hurried  feet  fell  on  her  ears, 
and  through  the  deepening  shades  of  twilight,  she 
caught  a  glimpes  of  a  scarlet  coat,  long  white  hair 
and  beard  and  flashing  jewels.  Hands  of  iron  seized 
Giles  Peram.  lie  was  lifted  into  the  air  as  if  he 
had  been  an  infant,  and  flung  head  first  into  a 
cluster  of  white  thorn,  where  he  lay  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  confused  and  bleeding.  Then  Sir  Albert 
St.  Croix  raised  the  half-fainting  Rebecca  from  the 
ground  and  said: 

"Come,  my  child,  be  not  affrighted;  he  will 
not  harm  you." 

She  gazed  up  at  the  kind  face  and  asked: 

"Are  you  the  owner  of  the  ship  Despair?" 

"lam." 

"Thank  }Tou,  Sir  Albert,"  she  began;  but  he 
quickly  interrupted  her  with: 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  329 

"Thank  not  me,  sweet  child;  but  come,  tell  me 
what  hath  gone  amiss,  and  have  no  fear,  for  I  am 
powerful  enough  to  save  you  from  any  harm." 

While  the  villanous  little  coward  Giles  Peram 
crawled  from  the  hedge  and  hurried  back  to  town, 
the  old  man  led  the  victim  of  his  insults  to  the 
church,  where  they  sat  upon  the  step  at  the  front 
of  the  vestibule.  She  had  no  fear  of  this  good  old 
man,  whom  she  instinctively  loved,  and  who 
seemed  to  wield  over  her  a  strange  and  mysterious 
influence.  He  asked  her  all  about  her  tormentor, 
and  she  confided  everything  to  him.  She  told  him 
of  the  loss  of  her  father  at  sea,  and  how  they  had 
lived  through  adversity  until  better  days  dawned, 
then  of  her  mother's  second  marriage,  and  the 
trouble  between  her  brother  and  Hugh  Price.  She 
did  not  even  omit  the  recent  uprising  in  which  her 
brother  had  joined  Bacon  and  the  rebels  in  a  mad 
blow  for  freedom. 

"The  worst  has  not  yet  come,  I  greatly  fear," 
sighed  the  little  maid.  "  The  rebellion  is  not  over, 
and  my  brother  will  yet,  I  fear,  be  hung  by  the  gov 
ernor,  for  Mr.  Price,  his  bitter  enemy,  is  a  firm 
friend  of  the  governor." 

"He  shall  not  be  harmed,  sweet  maid.  I  have 
a  great  ship,  with  larger  and  more  destructive  guns 
than  were  ever  in  Virginia.  I  have  a  crew  loyal 
even  unto  death,  and  I  could  bombard  and  destroy 


330  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

their  town,    ere  they  harm   either  your  brother, 
yourself  or  your  mother." 

He  looked  so  earnest,  so  like  a  good  angel  of  de 
liverance,  that  the  impulsive  Rebecca  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  he,  pressing  a  kiss  upon 
her  fair  young  cheek,  exclaimed: 

"God  bless  you!     There,  I  must  go." 
He  conducted  her  home,  went  aboard  his  ship, 
and  next  morning  the  mysterious  craft  had  disap 
peared  from  the  harbor. 

There  were  too  many  exciting  incidents  transpir 
ing  at  Jamestown  for  the  public  to  dwell  long  on 
the  stranger.  The  same  day  on  which  the  ship 
disappeared,  the  rumor  ran  about  town: 
"Bacon  has  fled!  Bacon  has  fled!" 
The  rumor  was  a  truth.  Robert  Stevens  had 
gone  with  him,  arid  although  Mr.  Lawrence  ex 
plained  that  Bacon's  wife  was  ill,  and  he  had  gone 
to  visit  her,  yet  Berkeley,  ever  suspicious,  con 
strued  his  sudden  breaking  of  his  parole  into  open 
hostility,  and  prepared  to  treat  it  accordingly. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

BACON    A    REBEL. 

"Hark  !  'tis  the  sound  that  charms 
The  war-steed's  wakening  ears. 
Oh  !  many  a  mother  folds  her  arms 
Round  her  boy-soldier,  when  that  call  she  hears, 
And  though  her  fond  heart  sink  with  fears, 
Is  proud  to  feel  his  young  pulse  bound 
With  valor's  fervor  at  the  sound. " 

— MOORE. 

THE  day  after  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
the  ship  Despair  and  the  flight  of  Bacon,  a  ship 
from  New  England  arrived  in  port.  Bacon's  flight 
and  the  disappearance  of  Sir  Albert  and  his  vessel 
were  so  nearly  at  the  same  time,  that  a  rumor  went 
around  the  town  that  the  former  had  escaped  in  the 
vessel  of  the  latter.  This  rumor  however  was  soon 
dispelled  on  learning  that  Bacon  was  at  Curies  ral 
lying  the  planters  about  him. 

The  vessel  which  had  just  come  into  port 
aroused  new  speculations,  until  it  was  learned  that 
it  was  only  a  trading  ship  from  Boston  doing  a  lit 
tle  business  in  defiance  of  the  navigation  laws. 
931 


332  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  vessel  brought  only  one  passenger.     That  pas- 
sender  was  a  beautiful  young  maid. 

O  v 

She  was  landed  soon  after  the  vessel  cast  anchor, 
and  her  first  inquiry  was  for  Eebecca  Stevens: 

"Is she  a  relative  of  yours,  young  maid?"  asked 
the  man  of  whom  she  inquired. 

"No;  I  know  of  her,  and  would  see  her." 

"Do  you  see  the  large  brick  house  upon  the  hill 
— not  the  one  on  the  left  of  the  church,  but  to  the 
right  with  the  broad  piazza  and  wires  in  front?" 

"I  see  it." 

"  She  lives  there.  It  is  the  home  of  Hugh  Price, 
who  married  her  mother." 

The  sailors  brought  some  baggage  ashore  which 
was  carried  to  a  warehouse  to  remain  until  the  fair 
traveller  shotild  send  for  it,  and  pay  the  costs  of 
transfer. 

"Do  you  travel  alone,  young  maid?"  asked  the 
man  whom  she  had  addressed. 

"I  do." 

"Where  is  your  mother?" 

"Dead,"  she  answered  sadly. 

"Then  you  are  an  orphan?" 

"  I  am.  War  is  raging  with  the  Indians  in  New 
England,  and  I  was  not  safe  there,  so  I  came  to 
Virginia." 

She  thanked  the  man  who  had  so  kindly  directed 
her,  and  went  to  the  house  of  Hugh  Price.  This 


BACON  A  REBEL.  333 

house,  next  to  the  home  of  Governor  Berkeley, 
was  the  most  elegant  mansion  in  Virginia.  On  the 
front  door  was  a  large  brass  knocker,  common  at 
the  time,  and,  seizing  it,  the  young  girl  struck  the 
door.  It  was  opened  by  a  negro  woman  whose 
red  turban  and  rich  dress  indicated  that  she  was  the 
household  servant  of  an  aristocratic  family.  The 
stranger  asked  for  Rebecca  Stevens,  and  was  shown 
to  her  room.  Rebecca  was  astonished  to  see  the 
pretty  stranger;  but  before  she  could  ask  who  she 
was,  the  maid  said: 

"  I  am  Ester  Goffe  from  Massachusetts.  The 
wTar  with  the  Indians  rages  sorely  in  that  land,  and 
my  friends  and  relatives  sent  me  here." 

"'Ester  —  Ester  Goffe,"  stammered  Rebecca. 
"Then  you  are  my  brother's  affianced." 

'"lam." 

In  a  moment  the  girls  were  clasped  in  each  other's 
arms,  mingling  their  tears  of -joy  and  grief.  Then 
Rebecca  held  her  at  arm's  length  and,  gazing  on 

C  J     O  O 

the  beautiful  face  and  soft  brown  eyes,  said: 

"I  don't  blame  Robert.  How  could  he  help 
loving  you?"  and  once  more  she  clasped  her  in 
her  arms. 

"  Where  is  he — where  is  Robert?" 

Rebecca  started  at  the  question,  and  an  expression 
of  pain  swept  over  her  face,  which  alarmed  Ester. 

"Alas,  he  is  gone.     He  hath  fled  with  Bacon, 


334  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

and  I  fear  that  you  have  escaped  from  one  calam 
ity  only  to  fall  into  another."  Then  she  explained 
the  distracted  condition  of  the  country,  concluding 
with: 

"You  must  not  be  known  here  as  Ester  Goffe. 
Were  it  known  by  Sir  William  Berkeley,  or  even 
my  mother's  husband,  that  the  child  of  a  regicide 
was  here,  I  know  not  what  the  result  would  be; 
but,  alas,  I  fear  it  would  be  your  ruin." 

"But  can  I  see  him?"  asked  Ester. 

"Who,  Sir  William  Berkeley  or  Mr.  Hugh 
Price?" 

"Robert." 

A  pallor  overspread  the  sister's  face  at  this  re 
quest,  and  she  answered  that  she  knew  not  how 
they  could  communicate  with  him. 

"Have  you  no  faithful  servant?" 

There  was  old  black  Sam  who  had  always  been 
faithful.  Usually  the  negroes  were  cunning  as  well 
as  treacherous,  for,  having  been  but  recently  brought 
from  Africa,  they  had  much  of  the  heathen  still  in 
their  natures;  but  old  black  Sam  had  been  faithful 
to  the  brother  through  all  trying  scenes  and  adver 
sities,  and,  though  he  dared  not  "cross  Master 
Price,"  he  secretly  aided  Rebecca  in  many  small 
schemes  objectionable  to  the  step-father.  Sam  was 
summoned,  arid  Rebecca,  asked: 

"Sam,  could  you  find  my  brother?" 


BACON  A   REBEL.  335 

"Idoau  know,  rnisse;  but  I  believe  old  black 
Sam  could." 

"Would  you  take  a  small  bit  of  writing  to 
him?'' 

"  If  misse  want  um  to  go,  ole  black  Sam,  him 
try.  De  bay  boss,  him  go  fast,  an'  black  Sam, 
him  go  on  um  back." 

Kebecca  hastily  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper: 

DEAR  BROTHER  ; — 

Ester  is  at  our  house  and  would  like  to  see  you.  Do  not 
come  unless  you  can  do  so  safely,  for  Sir  William  Ber 
keley  is  furious. 

Your  sister, 

REBECCA. 

Meanwhile,  the  fiery  General  Bacon  was  not  at 
Curies  nursing  his  sick  wife,  as  was  reported  (and 
who  was  not  sick  at  all) ;  but  he,  in  company  with 
Eobert  Stevens,  was  riding  to  and  fro,  at  the  heads 
of  the  rivers,  sounding  the  slogan.  At  the  word 
from  Bacon,  his  friends  rose  in  arms,  and  among 
them  were  a  part  of  the  eight  thousand  horse  which 
Berkeley  had  reported  in  the  colony.  The  people 
had  borne  enough  of  Berkeley's  tyranny,  and  the 
masses  sided  with  Bacon.  Even  those  who  did 
not  take  up  arms  in  his  defence  were  friendly  to 
his  interests.  The  clans  were  gathering.  They 
hastened  from  plantation  and  hundred,  from  low 
land  manor-house  and  log  cabin  in  the  woods  of 


336  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

the  upland,  well-armed  housekeepers,  booted  and 
spurred,  armed  with  good  broadswords  and  fusils 
for  the  wars  that  were  plainly  coming.  Bacon 
in  a  little  while  had  collected  a  force  of  nearly  six 
hundred  men.  In  fact,  it  was  not  more  than  three 
or  four  days  after  his  escape,  before,  at  the  head  of 
this  force,  he  was  marching  on  Jamestown. 

Berkeley  was  alarmed  and  dispatched  messen 
gers  to  York  and  Gloucester  for  the  train-bands; 
but  only  about  one  hundred  soldiers  could  be 
mustered,  and  before  these  could  reach  Jamestown, 
Bacon  entered  it  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  drew  up  his  troops, 
horse  and  foot,  upon  the  green,  not  an  arrow's 
flight  from  the  end  of  the  statehouse.  All  the 
streets  and  roads  leading  into  the  town  were 
guarded,  the  inhabitants  disarmed  and  the  boats  in 
the  harbor  seized. 

Jamestown  was  thrown  into  confusion.  Sir 
William  Berkeley  and  his  council  were  holding  a 
council  of  war,  when  the  roll  of  drums  and  blast  of 
trumpets  announced  that  Bacon  was  in  possession 
of  the  city. 

The  house  of  burgesses  was  called  to  order, 
though  little  order  was  preserved  on  that  day,  when 
a  collision  between  law  and  rebellion  seemed  inevi 
table.  Between  two  files  of  infantry  Bacon  ad 
vanced  to  the  corner  of  the  statehouse,  and  the 


BAG  OX  A   REBEL.  337 

governor  came  out.  Bacon,  who  had  perfect  con 
trol  over  himself,  advanced  toward  him.  Berkeley 
was  in  a  rage.  Walking  straight  toward  Bacon, 
he  tore  open  the  lace  at  his  bosom  and  cried: 

"Here!     Shoot  me!      'Fore  God,  a  fair  mark!" 
Bacon  curbed  his  rising  anger  and  replied: 
"  No,  may  it  please  your  honor,  we  will  not  hurt 
a  hair  of  your  head,  nor  of  any  other  man's.      We 
are  come  for  a  commission  to  save  our  lives  from 
the  Indians,  which  you  have  so  often  promised,  and 
now  we  will  have  it  before  we  go." 

Without  a  word  in  response,  the  governor  and 
council  wheeled  about  and  returned  to  their  cham 
ber,  and  Bacon  followed  them,  his  left  arm  akimbo, 
his  hand  resting  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  As  they 
made  him  no  answer,  Bacon  became  furious  and 
tossed  his  arms  about  excitedly,  while  the  fusileers 
covered  the  window  of  the  assembly  chamber  with 
their  guns,  and  continually  yelled: 

"We  will  have  it!  We  will  have  it!"  (Mean 
ing  the  commission.) 

One  of  Bacon's  friends  among  the  burgesses 
shook  his  handkerchief  from  the  window  and  an 
swered  : 

"You  shall  have  it!     You  shall  have  it!" 
The  soldiers  at  this  uncocked  their  guns  and 
waited  further  orders  from  Bacon.      Their  leader 
had  dashed  into  the  council  chamber  swearing: 
22 


338  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"D — n  my  blood!  I'll  kill  governor,  council, 
assembly  and  all,  and  then  I'll  sheathe  my  sword 
in  my  own  heart's  blood!" 

The  wildest  excitement  prevailed  in  the  town. 
Everybody  was  on  the  street,  and  the  massacre 
of  the  governor  and  his  council  was  momentarily 
expected.  Two  young  girls  ran  toward  an  officer 
in  the  army  of  the  rebel.  One  of  Bacon's  young 
captains  met  them  and  clasped  an  arm  about  each. 
It  was  Ester  and  Rebecca  meeting  the  brother  and 
lover.  The  excitement  was  too  great  for  many  to 
bestow  more  than  a  passing  glance  on  the  trio. 
There  was  a  murmured  prayer  by  all  three,  and 
they  were  silent. 

A  scene  so  ridiculous  as  to  excite  the  laughter 
of  many  followed  the  assault  on  the  statehouse.  A 
sleek,  plump  little  fellow,  frightened  out  of  his 
wits,  was  seen  trying  to  climb  out  of  a  window  on 
the  opposite  side  from  which  danger  was  threatened. 
He  got  out  and  clung  to  the  window  with  his 
hands,  his  short,  fat  legs  dangling  in  the  air  and 
kicking  against  the  wall. 

"Marry!  help  me!  Mother  of  God,  I  will  be 
killed  if  I  fall,  and  shot  if  I  don't!" 

It  was  Giles  Peram,  whose  legs  were  six  feet  from 
the  ground.  He  howled  and  yelled;  but  all  were 
too  busy  to  pay  an_y  attention  to  him,  and  at  last 
his  strength  gave  out,  and  he  fell  with  a  stunning 


BACON  A  REBEL.  339 

thud  upon  the  ground,  where  he  lay  gasping  for 
breath,  partially  unconscious,  but  with  no  bones 
broken. 

After  half  an  hour's  interview,  Bacon  returned. 
The  burgesses  hesitated;  but  the  governor  held  out 
some  promises  for  next  day.  Giles  Perarn,  having 
regained  his  strength  and  breath,  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  ran  as  fast  as  his  short  legs  could  carry  him  to 
the  far  end  of  the  street  to  escape  from  the  town; 
but  half  a  dozen  mounted  Virginians  with  broad 
swords  blocked  up  his  passage.  He  next  ran  to 
the  left  and  was  met  by  men  with  pikes,  one  of 
whom  prodded  him  so  that  he  yelled  and  ran  under 
some  ornamental  shrubs,  beneath  which  a  pair  of 
frightened  dogs  had  taken  shelter.  A  fight  for 
possession  followed,  and  for  a  while  it  was  doubtful ; 
but  Giles,  inspired  by  fear,  fought  with  the  desper 
ation  of  a  madman  and  drove  the  dogs  forth. 
With  his  scarlet  coat  and  his  silk  stockings  soiled, 
his  wig  lost  and  lace  and  ruffles  all  torn  and  ruined, 
he  crouched  under  the  shrubs,  groaning: 

"Oh,  Lordy,  Lordy!  I  will  be  killed!  I  know 
I  will  be  killed!"  The  governor's  valiant  secre 
tary  presented  a  deplorable  sight,  indeed. 

Next  day  Bacon  was  commissioned  by  the  gov 
ernor  as  general  and  commander-in-chief  of  the 
forces  against  the  Indians.  It  was  a  great  triumph 
for  the  young  republican.  Berkeley  even  wrote 


340  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

a  letter  to  the  king  applauding  what  Bacon  had 
done  on  the  frontier. 

Robert  Stevens  paid  his  mother,  sister  and  sweet 
heart  a  visit.  Not  having  received  Rebecca's  letter, 
he  was  ignorant  of  Ester's  presence  in  Virginia, 
until  he  discovered  her,  as  they  were  drawn  up  for 
battle.  Many  hoped  that  trouble  was  over;  but 
Robert  said: 

"It  is  not.  I  know  Berkeley  too  well.  He  is 
a  cunning  old  knave,  and  as  soon  as  he  has  recov 
ered  from  the  fright  into  which  the  appearance  of 
an  armed  force  precipitated  him,  he  will  relent  and 
do  something  terrible." 

"Brother,  do  not  place  yourself  in  his  power," 
said  his  sister. 

"Fear  not,  sweet  sister,  I  shall  have  a  care  for 
myself.  Where  is  Mr.  Price?" 

"  At  the  governor's." 

"Does  he  know  that  Ester  is  General  Goffe's 
daughter?" 

"No." 

"He  must  not.  He  would  report  it  to  the  gov 
ernor,  who,  in  his  idiotic  love  for  monarchy,  would 
adjudge  her  responsible  for  a  deed  committed  be 
fore  she  was  born." 

"We  will  keep  the  secret,  brother." 

"When  do  you  go?"  asked  Ester. 

"The  army  marches  against  the  Indians  on  the 


BACON  A  REBEL.  341 

morrow."  He  was  about  to  say  something  more, 
when  they  espied  Mr.  Giles  Peram  coming  toward 
them.  His  face  was  smiling,  though  there  were  a 
few  scratches  upon  it. 

"Marry!  friend  Robert,  good  morrow!  Did  you 
learn  of  my  great  speech  in  the  house  of  burgesses 
yesterday,  when  they  were  about  to  refuse  your 
general  his  commission?" 

"I  knew  not  that  you  were  a  member  of  the 
house." 

Peram,  blushing,  answered: 

"Nor  am  I;  but  I  forced  myself,  at  the  peril  of 
my  life,  into  their  presence,  and  I  swore — yes,  God 
forgive  me,  but  I  swore  if  they  did  not  give  the 
commission,  I  would  annihilate  them,  and,  by  the 
mass,  they  were  afraid  of  me,  and  they  granted  it." 
With  this  the  diminutive  egotist  strutted  proudly 
before  his  auditors. 

Black  Sam,  who  had  overheard  his  remark,  with 
his  native  impetuosity  put  in: 

"'Fore  God,  massa,  what  a  lie!  Why,  he  war 
all  de  time  under  de  thorn  bushes  tighten  wid  de 
dogs  fur  a  hiden-place." 

Giles  gave  utterance  to  an  exclamation  of  rage 
and  flew  at  the  negro  with  upraised  cane;  but  black 
Sam  evaded  his  blow  and,  with  a  laugh,  ran  into 
the  kitchen,  yelling  back:  "It  am  so.  Jist  see 
dem  scratches  on  him  face." 


342  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Quite  crestfallen,  Mr.  Peram  retired,  and  for 
several  days  did  not  annoy  Eebecca  with  his  pres 
ence. 

Next  morning  Bacon  started  on  his  campaign 
against  the  Indians.  The  burgesses  were  then  dis 
solved  and  went  back  to  their  homes.  The  fact 
that  that  body  sat  in  June,  1676,  and  in  the  same 
month  instructed  the  Virginia  delegates  to  propose 
independence  of  England,  has  been  a  theme  of 
much  discussion  among  historians. 

Bacon,  at  the  head  of  his  army,  duly  commis 
sioned,  was  marching  against  the  Indians.  All 
things  in  Virginia  were  virtually  under  his  control 
as  commander  of  the  military.  Mr.  Lawrence 
and  Mr.  Drummond,  ex-governor  of  Carolinia, 
though  they  were  his  friends,  remained  in  James 
town  to  look  after  his  interests  there.  Drum 
mond  declared  he  was  "in  over-shoes,  and  he 
would  be  over-boots."  Had  Bacon  been  uninter 
rupted,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  power  on 
the  Indians  would  have  been  felt;  but  Berkeley 
began  to  relent  that  he  had  ever  commissioned  him, 
and  issued  a  proclamation  declaring  him  a  rebel 
and  revoking  his  commission.  The  news  was 
brought  to  Bacon  while  on  the  upper  waters,  by 
Lawrence  and  Drumrnond.  When  he  heard  it,  the 
general  declared: 

"It  vexes  my  heart  for  to  think  that  while  I  am 


BACON  A  REBEL.  343 

"hunting  wolves,  tigers  and  foxes,  which  daily  de 
stroy  our  harmless  sheep  and  lambs,  I  and  those 
with  me  should  be  pursued  with  a  full  cry,  as  a 
more  savage  or  no  less  ravenous  beast." 

Bacon  began  his  march  back  to  the  lower  waters. 
On  the  way,  they  captured  a  spy  sent  by  Berkeley 
to  their  camp  and  hung  him.  Bacon  went  to  the 
Middle  Plantation,  afterward  Williamsburg,  and 
camped. 

Berkeley,  hearing  of  the  return  of  Bacon's  army, 
which  was  not  disbanded,  hastened  to  Accomac  for 
recruits,  and  Drummond  urged  Bacon  to  depose 
Berkeley,  and  appoint  Sir  Henry  Chicheley  in  his 
place.  When  the  leader  of  the  rebellion  mur 
mured  against  this,  the  Scotchman  answered: 

"Do  not  make  so  strange  of  it,  for  I  can  show 
you  ancient  records  that  such  things  have  been  done 
in  Virginia." 

This,  however,  was  carrying  matters  too  far,  even 
for  Bacon.  He  remembered  that  Governor  Harvey, 
who  had  been  deposed  in  a  similar  manner,  was  re 
instated  by  the  king.  He  issued  a  remonstrance 
against  Berkeley's  proclamation  denouncing  him  as 
a  rebel,  declaring  that  he  and  his  followers  were 
good  and  loyal  subjects  of  the  king  of  England, 
who  were  only  in  arms  against  the  savages.  Then 
followed  a  list  of  public  grievances.  He  declared 
that  some  in  authority  had  come  to  the  country 


344  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

poor,  and  were  now  rolling  in  wealth,  likening  them 
to  sponges,  that  have  sucked  up  and  devoured  the 
common  treasury.  He  asked,  "What  arts,  sci 
ences,  schools  of  learning,  or  manufactures  have 
been  promoted  by  any  now  in  authority?" 

The  governor's  beaver  trade  with  Indians,  in 
which  he  thought  more  of  his  profits  than  the 
lives  of  his  subjects  on  the  frontier,  was  not  for 
gotten. 

Bacon  was  declared  a  rebel,  his  life  was  forfeited 
to  Berkeley  if  captured,  and  while  at  the  Middle 
Plantation,  he  required  an  oath  of  his  followers  to 
even  resist  the  king's  troops  if  they  should  come 
to  Virginia.  The  people  of  Virginia  had  not  yet 
learned  the  true  principles  of  liberty.  They  still 
supposed  that  liberty  could  be  gained  while  they 
retained  their  allegiance  to  the  king  of  England.  It 
required  a  hundred  years  more  to  convince  them 
that  freedom  was  incompatible  with  royalty.  The 
paper  signed  at  Middle  Plantation  on  this  third 
day  of  August,  167C,  was  a  notable  document.  It 
began  by  stating  that  certain  persons  had  raised 
forces  against  General  Bacon,  which  had  brought 
on  civil  war,  and  if  forces  came  from  England  they 
would  oppose  them. 

The  next  step  of  the  rebels  wast  to  organize  a 
government.  Bacon  issued  writs  for  the  repre 
sentatives  of  the  people  to  assemble  early  in  Sep- 


BACON  A  REBEL.  345 

tember.  The  writs  were  in  the  king's  name,  and 
were  signed  by  four  of  the  council. 

This  done,  Bacon  set  off  on  his  Indian  campaign, 
leaving  behind  him  a  mighty  tumult.  The  new 
world  had  defied  the  old.  At  midnight  by  torch 
light,  the  grim-faced  pioneers  of  Virginia  had  sworn 
to  be  free.  Everywhere  men  and  women  hailed 
the  oath  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Now  we  can  build  ships  and,  like  New  Eng 
land,  trade  with  any  other  part  of  the  world," 
they  declared.  Sarah  Drummond,  the  wife  of  the 
Scottish  conspirator,  exclaimed* 

"The  child  that  is  unborn  shall  have  cause  to 
rejoice  for  the  good  that  will  come  by  the  rising  of 
the  country. "  And  when  a  person  by  her  side  said, 
"We  must  expect  a  greater  power  from  England, 
that  will  certainly  be  our  ruin,"  Drummond's 
wife  took  up  a  stick,  broke  it  in  two  and  cried 
disdainfully: 

"  I  fear  the  power  of  England  no  more  than  a 
broken  straw!  We  will  do  well  enough." 

The  women  took  great  interest  in  public  affairs 
at  this  time.  The  wife  of  Cheeseman  urged  him 
to  join  Bacon  and  fight  for  their  liberties,  which  he 
did,  as  she  afterward  declared,  at  her  own  re 
quest.  The  whole  country  was  with  Bacon,  and, 
after  instructing  them  to  resist  any  force  that  might 
come  from  England,  he  crossed  James  River  at 


346  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Curies  with  a  force  of  three  hundred  men,  and  fell 
upon  the  Appomattox  Indians  at  what  is  now 
Petersburg,  with  such  fury  that  he  killed  or  routed 
the  entire  tribe.  Bacon  fought  so  viciously,  that 
his  name  was  a  dread  to  the  savages  fifty  years 
after  his  death.  For  one  without  training,  he  dis 
played  wonderful  military  abilit3r.  Having  com 
pletely  routed  all  the  Indians,  early  in  September 
Bacon  with  his  army  returned  to  the  settlements, 
and  had  reached  West  Point  when  he  received  news 
that  Sir  William  Berkeley,  with  a  thousand  men 
and  seventeen  ships,  was  in  possession  of  James 
town. 

Berkeley  had  not  all  gloom  and  disaster  on  his 
side.  Captain  Bland,  who  had  been  sent  by  Bacon 
with  a  considerable  force  to  capture  Berkeley,  was 
led  into  a  trap  and  captured  by  Captain  Larramore. 
Shortly  after,  the  governor  returned  to  Jamestown 
with  a  large  number  of  longshoremen  and  loafers, 
great  enough  in  quantity,  but  inferior  as  soldiers  in 
quality. 

While  Jamestown  was  deserted  by  both  bellig 
erent  parties,  and  its  frightened  inhabitants  were 
waiting  in  feverish  anxiety  the  next  event  in  the 
great  drama,  there  suddenly  appeared  in  the  harbor 
the  wonderful  vessel  Despair.  The  ship  entered 
in  the  night  as  mysteriously  as  it  had  disappeared, 
and  again  the  white-haired  Sir  Albert  was  seen  on 


BACON  A  REBEL.  347 

the  streets  of  Jamestown.  He  met  Eebecca  the  day 
of  his  arrival,  and  she  said: 

"I  feared  you  had  gone,  never  to  come  back." 

"Did  you  want  to  see  me  again,  child?"  he 
asked,  in  such  a  fatherly  voice,  that  she  could  scarce 
resist  the  impulse  to  embrace  him. 

"I  did,  Sir  Albert,  for  I  remembered  your  prom 
ise,  and  I  depend  on  you." 

"The  war  rages  again?" 

"  It  does,  and  I  fear  for  my  brother.  Sir  William 
is  coming  with  a  thousand  men." 

"  If  the  worst  comes,  sweet  maid,  I  will  take  you 
aboard  my  ship." 

"But  my  brother — oh,  my  brother!" 

"He,  also,  will  be  safe." 

"Would  you  take  us  all,  and  Ester,  too?" 

"Who  is  Ester?" 

She  told  him  all,  for  she  felt  that  in  this  myste 
rious  man  she  had  a  friend  on  whom  she  could 
rely.  When  she  had  finished,  Sir  Albert  shook 
his  snowy  locks  and  remarked: 

"  You  would  do  well  to  keep  this  from  the  ears 
of  Sir  William,  sweet  maid." 

Then  he  went  away  into  the  forest.  That  even 
ing,  as  he  sat  at  the  roadside,  not  far  from  James 
town,  the  wife  of  Hugh  Price,  who  had  been  to 
Greenspring,  was  returning  home  on  her  favorite 
saddle-horse.  The  animal  became  frightened  at 


348  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

some  object  by  the  roadside,  and  leaped  madly  for 
ward.  The  saddle  turned  and  the  woman  would 
have  fallen  had  not  Sir  Albert  rushed  to  her  rescue. 

He  lifted  her  from  the  saddle,  and,  while  the 
horse  dashed  madly  away,  seated  the  rider  safely 
at  the  roadside. 

"Are  you  injured?"  he  asked  the  half-fainting 
woman. 

"No." 

"You  are  fortunate  to  escape  so  narrowly, 
madam.  Do  you  live  at  Jamestown?" 

"I  do,  sir.  You  are  Sir  Albert  of  the  Despair, 
are  you  not?"  asked  Dorothe  Price. 

"lam." 

"I  have  often  heard  of  you.  I  thank  you  for 
your  kind  service,  sir." 

"Shall  I  see  you  home?" 

"If  not  too  much  trouble." 

As  they  walked  along  the  road,  he  asked: 

"Are  you  Mrs.  Price?" 

"lam." 

"Mr.  Hugh  Price  is  your  second  husband?" 

"He  is." 

"When  did  your  first  husband  die?" 

"Many  years  ago.     He  was  lost  at  sea." 

"Did  he  leave  two  children?" 

"Yes,  sir,  two,"  she  sighed,  and  the  white- 
haired  stranger,  glancing  at  her  face,  asked: 


BACON  A  REBEL.  349 

"Was  he  a  good  man?" 

"Good  man!  Ob,  sir,  he  was  an  angel  of  good 
ness;  but,  alas,  I  never  appreciated  him,  until  he 
was  gone.  I  oft  recall  that  fatal  morning  when  he 
bade  me  farewell,  when  he  kissed  the  baby  and  left 
a  tear  on  her  cheek.  I  was  happy  then!"  Tears 
were  now  trickling  down  her  cheeks. 

"Are  you  happy  now?" 

"Alas,  no.     I  am  miserable." 

"Why?" 

"My  husband  is  an  enemy  to  my  son.  Price  is 
a  royalist  while  Robert  is  a  Puritan  and  a  republi 
can." 

"Is  your  son  with  Bacon?" 

"He  is,  and  Sir  William  would  hang  Robert  if 
he  could." 

"He  shall  not  hang  him." 

"If  he  captures  him,  who  will  prevent  it?" 

"I  will."  They  parted  at  the  door,  and  as  the 
old  man  went  down  to  his  boat,  she  gazed  after 
him,  murmuring: 

"  Heaven  surely  hath  sent  us  a  protector  at  last." 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

BURNING   OF   JAMESTOWN. 

"At  every  turn,  Morena's  dusky  height 
Sustains  aloft  the  battery's  iron  load, 
And,  far  as  mortal  eye  can  compass  sight, 
The  mountain-howitzer,  the  broken  road, 
The  bristling  palisade,  the  foss  o'erflowed, 
The  stationed  band,  the  never-vacant  watch, 
The  magazine  in  rocky  durance  stand, 
The  holster 'd  steed  beneath  the  shed  of  thatch, 
The  ball-piled  pyramid,  the  ever-blazing  match." 

— BYRON. 

SIR  WILLIAM  BERKELEY,  with  the  motley  crowd 
of  sailors,  longshoremen,  freed  slaves,  and  such  as 
he  could  collect,  sailed  for  Jamestown  and  reached 
it  safely  September  7th,  1676.  The  news  of  his 
approach  reached  Jamestown  long  before  he  did, 
and  Colonel  Hansford,  one  of  Bacon's  youngest 
and  bravest  officers,  with  eight  hundred  men  pre 
pared  to  resist.  A  terrible  conflict  was  anticipated, 
and  Sir  Albert,  on  the  morning  of  the  expected 
fight,  landed  and  took  Mrs.  Price,  her  daughter  and 
Ester  GofTe  on  board  his  ship,  and  dropped  down 
the  river  a  mile  or  two,  to  be  out  of  harm's  way. 
350 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN.  351 

These  were  the  first  people  who  had  been  aboard 
the  wonderful  ship  Despair. 

Rebecca  was  charmed  and  entranced  at  the  dis 
play  of  wealth  and  splendor  on  board  the  vessel. 
The  elegance  was  marvellous. 

"  You  must  be  very  rich,"  she  said  to  Sir  Albert. 

"  This  represents  but  a  small  part  of  my  posses 
sions.  " 

"I  would  I  were  your  heiress." 

"You  may  be,  sweet  maid.  I  have  no  nearer 
relative  to  inherit  the  millions  which  are  burden 
some  to  me." 

"Have  you  no  wife — no  children?" 

He  shook  his  head,  looked  so  sad,  and  turned 
away  with  such  a  deep  drawn  sigh,  that  she  could 
not  bear  to  ask  him  more. 

Berkeley  appeared  that  evening  before  James 
town  and  summoned  the  rebels  to  surrender,  prom 
ising  amnesty  to  all  but  Lawrence  and  Drummond, 
who  were  then  in  the  town.  Hansford  refused; 
but,  on  the  advice  of  his  friends,  they  all  left  the 
town  that  night.  At  noon  next  day  Berkeley 
landed  on  the  island  and,  kneeling,  thanked  God 
for  his  safe  arrival.  Only  a  very  few  people  were 
found  in  the  town,  and  Lawrence  and  Drummond 
were  gone.  Mr.  Lawrence  fled  so  precipitately 
that  he  left  his  house  with  all  its  effects  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy. 


352  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Druinmond  and  the  thoughtful  Mr.  Lawrence 
hastened  to  find  Bacon,  who  was  at  West  Point  at 
the  head  of  the  York  River. 

Bacon  acted  witli  an  energy  and  rapidity  that 
would  have  done  Napoleon  or  Cromwell  credit. 
"With  his  faithful  body  guard,  among  whom  were 
Robert  Stevens,  Druinmond,  Cheeseman  and  Law 
rence,  he  set  out  for  Jamestown.  Carriers,  sent  in 
every  direction,  summoned  the  Baconites  to  join 
him,  so  that  his  small  band  increased  so  rapidly, 
that  when  he  reached  Jamestown  he  had  a  force  of 
several  hundred. 

The  governor  prepared  to  receive  the  rebels.  He 
threw  up  a  strong  earth-work,  and  a  palisade  had 
been  erected  across  the  neck  of  the  island.  Bacon, 
on  reaching  Jamestown,  rode  forward  to  recon 
noitre  it.  He  then  ordered  his  trumpeters  to  sound 
the  battle  cry,  and  a  volley  was  fired  into  the  town; 
but  no  response  came  back. 

Bacon  made  his  headquarters  at  Greenspring,  in 
Governor  Berkeley's  own  house,  and  while  Sir 
William  dined  at  the  board  of  the  thoughtful  Mr. 
Lawrence,  the  rebel  fed  at  the  table  of  the  governor. 
Resolving  on  a  siege,  Bacon  threw  up  earth -works 
about  the  town  in  front  of  the  palisades.  Berkeley's 
riflemen  so  annoyed  the  men  at  work,  that  Bacon 
had  recourse  to  a  strange  device  to  protect  them. 
He  sent  a  detachment  of  horse  into  the  surrounding 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN.  353 

country,  captured  and  brought  to  camp  the  wives 
of  all  the  prominent  gentlemen  who  fought  with 
Berkeley.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Price  only  escaped  by  be 
ing  on  board  the  ship  Despair.  Madame  Bray, 
Madame  Page,  Madame  Ballard  and  Madame  Ba 
con,  the  wife  of  Bacon's  cousin,  were  among  the 
number.  These  women  were  placed  before  the 
workmen  in  the  trenches  to  protect  them  from 
the  bullets  of  Berkeley. 

"Have  no  apprehensions  from  us,  good-wives," 
said  Bacon.  "We  shall  not  harm  a  hair  of  your 
head.  If  your  husbands  shoot  you  we  are  not  to 
blame." 

Bacon  has  been  censured  for  this  ungallant 
strategy;  but  it  worked  well  and  saved  his  work 
men  from  further  annoyance.  He  sent  one  of  the 
good-wives  into  the  town  under  a  flag  of  truce  to 
inform  her  own  and  the  others'  husbands,  that  he 
meant  to  place  them  "  in  the  forefront  of  his  work 
men,"  during  the  construction  of  the  earth- works, 
and  if  they  fired  on  them,  the  good- wives  would 
suffer. 

No  attack  was  made  on  Bacon  until  the  earth 
works  were  completed,  and  then  the  women  were 
sent  to  their  homes  during  the  night.  Next  morn 
ing  at  early  dawn,  Berkeley  sounded  his  battle-cry, 
and  his  men  mustered  at  the  roll  of  the  drum.  Ba 
con  was  on  the  alert.  His  eagle  eye  glanced  along 
23 


354  A    CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

his  earth-works  and  the  gallant  men  enrolled  under 
him. 

"  They  are  coming !  They  are  coming  with  their 
whole  force!"  he  shouted,  as  he  stood  on  the  ram 
parts,  his  sword  in  his  hand  and  his  eye  flashing 
with  the  glorious  light  of  battle.  Matches  were 
burning,  the  cocks  of  the  fusees  raised,  and  the 
Virginians  stood  cool  and  undaunted. 

There  came  a  puff  of  smoke  from  the  palisades 
at  Jamestown,  a  heavy  report  of  a  cannon,  and  an 
iron  ball  struck  the  earth-work. 

"Come  down,  general!"  cried  the  thoughtful 
Mr.  Lawrence.  "You  endanger  your  life  up 
there." 

Bacon  paid  no  heed  to  the  warning.  He  was 
watching  the  manoeuvres  of  the  enemy,  about  eight 
hundred  strong,  who  were  about  to  assault  him. 
Robert  Stevens  sprang  to  his  side,  and  both  smiled  at 
the  lack  of  courage  and  discipline  which  Berkeley's 
longshoremen  displayed.  Giles  Peram,  at  the  head 
of  the  company,  marched  forth.  He  wore  a  tall 
hat  with  a  feather  in  it,  and  strutted  about,  until 
his  eye  caught  sight  of  the  enemy,  when  he  wheeled 
about  as  quickly  as  if  he  were  on  springs  and 
bounded  away  toward  Jamestown,  yelling  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  in  Bacon's  camp: 

"Oh,  I  will  be  killed!     I  will  be  killed!" 

A  shot  was  fired  from  Jamestown,  and  Giles,  be- 


BURNING   OF  JAMESTOWN.  355 

lieving  himself  struck,  fell  on  the  ground  and 
rolled  overand-kicked,  producing  such  a  ridiculous 
scene,  that  Robert  and  Bacon  laughed  outright. 
Berkeley,  himself,  headed  the  army,  with  which 
he  intended  to  storm  the  earth-works,  and,  after 
some  little  difficulty,  he  got  his  forces  formed,  and 
the  advance  began. 

"  Don't  fire,  until  I  give  you  the  command,"  said 
Bacon,  coolly.  "  We  will  soon  disperse  this  motley 
crowd,  have  no  fear." 

He  and  Robert  were  prevailed  upon  to  descend 
from  the  ramparts,  and  all  awaited  the  arrival  of 
the  enemy.  They  came  slowly,  doing  plenty  of 
yelling,  and  firing  their  fusees  at  random.  The 
bullets  either  buried  themselves  in  the  earth-works, 
or  whistled  harmlessly  through  the  air.  Not  one 
of  Bacon's  men  was  touched. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  until  within  easy 
pistol  range,  when  Bacon  cried: 

"Fire!" 

Pistol,  musket  and  cannon  belched  forth  fire  and 
death,  while  a  cloud  of  smoke  rolled  up  above  the 
fort.  One  volley  had  done  the  work.  Alas! 
the  motley  crowd  from  Accomac  were  no  fit  adver 
saries  for  those  stern  backwoodsmen.  Berkeley's 
recruits  had  come  over  to  plunder,  and,  finding  lead 
and  bullets  instead  of  gold  and  treasure,  they  fled 
with  light  heels  to  Jamestown,  leaving  a  dozen  of 


356  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

their  number  stretched  on  the  ground  as  the  only 
proof  that  they  had  fought  at  all. 

Bacon  now  opened  a  cannonade  in  earnest  on  the 
town.  The  first  ball  that  came  screaming  over  the 
town  to  crash  into  the  house  which  was  the  gov 
ernor's  headquarters  was  answered  by  a  wild  yell 
of  fear,  and  the  boastful  Mr.  Peram  might  have 
been  seen  flying  as  fast  as  his  short  legs  would 
carry  him  to  another  part  of  the  fortification. 
Another  boom,  and  a  shot  struck  the  ground  ten 
paces  from  him,  and  he  wheeled  about  and  ran, 
until  a  third  shot  struck  a  house  before  him.  Then 
he  ran  to  the  church  and  crawled  under  it,  where 
he  lay  until  night. 

Berkeley  realized  that  he  was  in  no  condition  to 
resist  Bacon  with  such  a  set  of  knaves  as  he  had 
for  soldiers. 

"We  cannot  long  hold  out,  Mr.  Price,"  he  said 
as  the  sun  was  setting. 

"No,  Sir  William,  we  must  evacuate  the  city 
this  very  night." 

"I  believe  it.  Where  is  that  coward  Giles 
Peram?" 

"He  hath  taken  refuge  under  the  church." 

"Drag  him  hence.  Robert  Stevens  is  among  the 
rebels,  and  the  fool  will  fare  hard  if  he  falls  into 
his  hands." 

A  few  moments  later  the  wretched,  trembling 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN.  357 

Griles  was  brought  before  the  governor.  His  scarlet 
coat,  lace  and  ruffles  were  torn  and  disordered.  He 
was  reprimanded  for  his  cowardice,  and  the  army 
at  once  began  to  evacuate.  When  day  dawned 
Berkeley  was  gone  and  Bacon  entered  the  town. 
Mr.  Drummond,  Mr.  Lawrence  and  Mr.  Cheese- 
man  went  to  their  homes. 

The  ship  Despair,  which  had  been  near  enough 
to  witness  the  scene,  now  bore  down  nearer  to  the 
town.  Boats  were  lowered  and  the  three  women 
set  on  shore.  Robert  greeted  his  mother,  his  affi 
anced  and  his  sister  with  the  most  ardent  affection. 
He  had  suffered  much  uneasiness  about  them,  not 
knowing  where  they  were,  and  he  was  overjoyed 
to  see  them. 

That  evening,  while  Mr.  Lawrence,  Mr.  Drum 
mond  and  Mr.  Cheeseman  were  holding  a  council 
at  the  house  of  the  former,  the  door  suddenly 
opened  and  a  tall  white-haired  stranger  entered. 
Each  started  to  his  feet  at  the  appearance  of  this 
apparition  and  seized  pistols  and  swords. 

"Never  fear,  friends;  I  came  not  to  harm  you," 
said  Sir  Albert,  in  his  mild,  gentle,  but  stern 
voice. 

"You  intrude — you  disturb  us!"  cried  Cheese 
man.  "We  want  no  spy  on  our  deliberations." 

"Verily,  my  good  man,  you  speak  truly.  These 
are  deliberations  at  which  there  must  be  no  spy. 


358  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Let  no  whispering  tongue  breathe  aught  of  this 
meeting." 

His  words  were  so  strange,  that  they  stood 
amazed,  gazing  at  him  in  wonder.  Drummond  at 
last  gasped: 

"  'Fore  God,  who  are  you?" 

"A  man  like  you,"  was  the  answer;  "a  man  no 
older,  yet  whom  sorrow  hath  crushed  and  bowed 
with  premature  age;  a  man  with  a  heart  to  feel 
and  a  brain  to  think;  a  man  who  would  willingly 
exchange  places  with  you,  though  you  stand  within 
the  shadow  of  a  scaffold;  a  man,  whose  heart — O 
God! — must  speak,  or  it  will  break;  a  friend  who 
loves  you,  who  never  wronged  any  one,  but  has 
been  made  the  puppet  of  outrageous  fortune;  a 
man  who  has  more  wealth  than  all  Virginia,  and 
yet  is  poorer  than  the  lowest  beggar;  a  man  born 
to  misfortune;  a  child  of  sorrow  and  of  tears;  one 
who  never  loved,  but  to  see  the  object  of  his  affec 
tions  blighted  or  stolen;  a  man  to  whom  dungeons, 
chains,  slavery,  death",  hell  itself  would  be  heaven 
compared  to  what  he  hath  endured;  such  a  poor 
wretch,  my  friends,  is  now  before  you." 

He  could  say  no  more,  but,  sinking  upon  a  chair, 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 
The  three  friends  gazed  at  him  for  several  seconds 
in  astonishment;  then  they  looked  at  each  other  for 
some  solution  to  this  mystery, 


BURNING   OF  JAMESTOWN.  359 

"What  meaneth  this?"  Drummond  asked  when 
he  regained  his  voice.  "Surely  I  have  heard  that 
voice  before.  It  takes  me  back,  back  into  the  past, 
many  years  ago,  when  we  were  all  young." 

Before  any  one  could  say  a  word,  Sir  Albert 
started  up,  laid  aside  his  cocked  hat  and,  brushing 
back  his  long  snow-white  hair  from  his  massive 
brow,  said: 

"Drummond,  Lawrence,  Cheeseman,  friends  of 
my  youth,  look  on  this  face  and,  in  God's  name, 
tell  me  you  recognize  one  familiar  feature  left  by 
the  hand  of  misfortune." 

The  three  looked, — started  to  their  feet,  and 
Drummond  cried: 

"  God  in  heaven  !  hath  the  sea  given  up  its  dead  ? 
It  is  John  Stevens  !  " 

"It  is  John  Stevens,  alive  and  in  the  flesh,"  he 
quickly  answered.  At  first  they  could  hardly  be 
lieve  him,  until  he  briefly  told  them  the  story  of 
his  shipwreck  and  wonderful  adventures  on  the 
island,  of  the  treasures  untold  thrown  into  his 
hands,  and  finally  of  a  ship,  in  search  of  water, 
putting  into  his  poor  harbor.  After  no  little 
trouble  he  got  his  treasure  aboard  this  vessel  with 
out  the  crew  suspecting  what  it  was  and  sailed  to 
Europe.  His  vast  wealth  had  procured  all  else — 
ship,  faithful  men,  the  king's  favor  and  all  needful 
to  his  plans, 


360  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Then  I  sailed  for  Virginia  to  meet  sorrow, 
good  friends,  and  live  a  living  death,"  he  con 
cluded. 

"Did  you  know  of  her  marriage  before  your 
arrival?" 

"Yes,  I  was  told  in  London  by  a  Virginian  of 
whom  I  made  some  inquiry.  I  could  not  believe 
it  at  first,  for  Dorothe  always  condemned  second 
marriages,  and  oft,  when  ailing,  predicted  that  I 
would  wed  when  she  died,  and  bring  a  second  mother 
over  her  children." 

Drummond  struck  his  fist  upon  the  table  vehe 
mently,  answering: 

"'Fore  God,  it  is  always  thus  with  the  howling 
wenches!  That  which  they  most  disclaim  will  they 
do.  She  hath  not  waited  until  her  husband  was 
dead,  but  hath  married 

"  Drummond,  hold  your  peace;  she  is  the  mother 
of  my  children  and  was  true  to  me  while  my  wife. 
Unless  you  would  lose  my  friendship,  speak  not 
against  the  woman  whom  I  still  love,"  and  John 
Stevens  buried  his  white  head  in  his  hands  and 
trembled  as  if  in  an  ague  fit. 

"Forgive  me,  my  friend;  forgive  me;  I  was 
hasty,"  said  Drummond.  "I  have  naught  to  say 
against  the  woman  who  was  and  still  is  your  wife. 
Verily,  she  hath  had  her  punishment, — and  the 
poor  children,  how  they  have  suffered." 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN.  361 

"I  know  all,"  John  sobbed. 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"Alas,  I  know  not." 

"Why  not  declare  yourself  to  the  world  and 
claim  your  wife?" 

"What!  Illegalize  the  marriage  and  make  an 
adulteress  of  my  wife?  No,  never!  I  pray  you, 
my  friends,  pledge  me  on  your  oaths  as  gentlemen 
never  to  reveal  my  identity,  while  she  or  I  shall 
live." 

Drummond,  who  was  impetuous  and  hated  Hugh 
Price,  cried: 

"And  will  you  leave  her  to  him?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  low,  meek  answer. 

"Will  you  not  seek  revenge?" 

"  'Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord.'" 

Drummond  was  choking  with  fury  and  amaze 
ment.  After  a  moment  he  regained  control  over 
himself,  and  gasped: 

"  Heavens !  can  God  permit  such  injustice?  And 
you  will  surrender  her  to  him?" 

"They  believe  themselves  lawfully  married. 
She  hath  committed  no  crime  in  the  sight  of 
heaven." 

"But  wherefore  not  tear  her  from  his  arms  and 
fly  to  some  foreign  land?" 

"Nay,  my  friend,  we  have  two  children,  a  son 


362  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

and  daughter,  for  whose  peace  we  must  have  a 
care.  Dare  I  for  their  sakes  declare  who  I  am?" 

Drummond  was  eager  to  put  a  bullet  into  the 
brain  of  Price;  but  John  Stevens  was  a  man  of 
peace  and  not  of  blood.  His  days  were  few  on 
earth;  his  race  was  almost  run,  and  the  prime  and 
vigor  of  his  manhood  had  been  wasted  on  a  desert 
island.  His  only  desire  was  to  hover  unknown 
about  those  he  loved,  that  they  might  not  want  or 
suffer  while  he  lived,  and  he  had  already  arranged 
his  fortune  so  it  would  descend  to  Robert  and  Re 
becca  when  he  died. 

"Yet  I  must  live  unknown,  my  friends.  Swear 
to  keep  my  secret." 

They  swore  on  their  honor,  and  the  miserable  old 
man,  whose  fine  apparel  was  only  a  disguise,  rose 
and  left  them.  The  three  friends  were  sitting 
looking  at  each  other  in  speechless  amazement, 
when  the  door  again  burst  open,  and  the  impetuous 
Bacon,  accompanied  by  Robert  Stevens,  entered. 

"  Why  sit  you  here?"  cried  the  general.  "  Have 
you  not  heard  the  news?" 

"No;  what  is  it?" 

"Berkeley  hath  been  reinforced,  they  say,  by 
troops  from  England,  and  is  coming  upon  the 
town." 

Drummond,  Cheeseman  and  Lawrence  were  on 
their  feet  in  a  moment,  their  faces  evincing  alarm. 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN. 


363 


No  one  doubted  the  truth  of  the  story,  fvnd  they 
began  to  hurriedly  discuss  the  situation. 

"Are   we    able   to   defend   Jamestown    against 
them?"    asked    the   thoughtful 
Mi%.  Lawrence. 

"No,"  answered  Bacon. 

"Then  we  must  abandon  it." 

"  They  shall  not 
find  the  town  when 
they  come,"  cried 
Bacon.  UD — n  my 
blood!  I  will  burn 
Jamestown,  and  not 
a  stone  shall  be  left 
standing  upon  an 
other.  Burn  it,  yes 
burn  it,  so  that  three 
centuries  hence 
naught  but  its  ashes 
and  ruins  will  mark 
where  it  stands  to 
day!" 

What  Bacon  or 
dered  in  the  heat  of 
passion  was  indorsed 
by  sober  reason,  and 
it  was  resolved  to 
burn  the  town.  RUINS  OF  JAMESTOWN. 


364  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"But  your  own  house,  Mr.  Drummond,  will 
have  to  be  burned,"  cried  Eobert. 

"I  will  fire  it  with  my  own  hand.  It  will  be 
the  first  that  burns,"  answered  Drummond.  Im 
mediately  the  news  spread  that  the  town  had  been 
doomed.  The  troops  were  assembled  in  the  streets, 
and  the  people  summoned  to  vacate  their  houses. 
There  were  wailings  and  shrieks  that  night.  Robert 
ran  to  his  home  and  told  his  mother,  what  wras  to 
be  done.  She  came  weeping  into  the  street  and 
asked : 

"What  will  become  of  us,  my  son?  Whither 
shall  we  fly?  We  are  three  helpless  women  with 
out  a  roof  to  protect  us." 

"  Until  this  storm  hath  blown  away,  let  my  ship 
be  your  home,"  said  a  deep,  sad  voice  at  her  side, 
and,  turning  about,  she  beheld  Sir  Albert  St.  Croix, 
the  man  who  had  so  strangely  impressed  her. 

"  Mother,  go,  take  Ester  and  sister  and  go  aboard 
the  Despair,"  cried  Robert.  Then,  turning  to  the 
strange  old  man,  he  seized  his  hand  and  continued, 
"Kind  sir,  you  look  the  soul  of  honor.  Will  you 
care  for  them  until  this  hour  has  passed?" 

Sir  Albert's  breast  heaved  a  moment  like  the 
tumultuous  storm;  then  he  answered: 

"I  will,  I  swear  by  the  God  we  all  worship!" 

Robert  hastily  gathered  up  some  personal  effects 
and  precious  family  relics,  and  carried  them  aboard 


BURNING  OF  JAMESTOWN.  365 

the  ship  with  his  mother,  Ester  and  Rebecca.  On 
his  return,  he  saw  a  bright  flame  dart  up  from  the 
corner  of  Drummond's  house  and  heard  that  gentle 
man  say: 

"Farewell,  dear  home!  Better  perish  thus  than 
be  a  harbor  for  tyrants." 

Drummond  had  fired  his  own  house.  Mr.  Law 
rence  did  the  same.  The  street  was  now  filled  with 
weeping  and  shrieking  women  and  children  and 
piles  of  household  goods.  A  moment  later,  and 
Robert  saw  the  burning  flames  leaping  up  about  the 
home  of  his  childhood — the  house  his  father  had 
erected.  They  leaped  and  crackled  angrily  and 
licked  the  roof  with  their  hot,  thirsty  tongues,  and 
he  turned  away  his  head.  An  hour  later  James 
town  was  no  more.  It  has  never  been  rebuilt,  and 
only  the  ruins  of  the  old  church  mark  the  spot 
where  once  it  stood. 

Bacon  and  his  army  retreated  up  the  country. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE. 

The  longer  life,  the  more  offence  ; 

The  more  offence,  the  greater  pain : 
The  greater  pain,  the  less  defence  ; 

The  less  defence,  the  greater  gain  : 
The  loss  of  gain  long  ill  doth  try, 
Wherefore,  come  death  and  let  me  die. 

— WYAT. 

BACON  still  tarried  at  the  Green  spring  manor- 
house  after  the  destruction  of  Jamestown,  till  a 
messenger  came  with  the  alarming  intelligence  that 
a  strong  force  of  royalists  was  advancing  from  the 
Potomac. 

With  his  little  army  of  dauntless  patriots,  he 
marched  to  face  this  new  danger,  for  there  was  little 
more  to  fear  from  Sir  William  Berkeley,  who  re 
mained  at  the  kingdom  of  Accomac,  and  who 
would  only  find  smoking  ruins  at  Jamestown. 

"You  do  not  look  well,"  said  Robert  to  the 
patriot  at  whose  side  he  rode.  "Your  cheek  is 
flushed,  and  I  believe  you  have  a  fever." 

Bacon,  who  had  contracted  a  disease  in  the 
366 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.          367 

trenches  about  Jamestown,  was  very  irritable.  His 
excitable  nature  took  fire  at  the  slightest  provoca 
tion;  but  with  Eobert  he  was  ever  reasonable. 

"I  shall  be  better  soon,"  he  answered.  "When 
once  we  have  met  these  devils  and  had  this  fight 
over  with,  I  will  be  well;  but  I  shall  free  Virginia, 
or  die  in  the  effort." 

"Have  a  care  for  your  health." 

"  I  shall  live  to  see  the  tyrant  more  humbled  than 
when  he  fled  Jamestown." 

Bacon  was  angry  and  more  eager  to  fight  as  his 
illness  increased  than  when  well.  They  crossed 
the  lower  York  in  boats  at  Ferry  Point  and  marched 
into  Gloucester,  where  he  made  his  headquarters  at 
Colonel  Warner's  and  issued  his  "  Mandates"  to  the 
Gloucester  men  to  meet  him  at  the  court  house  and 
subscribe  to  the  Middle  Plantation  oath.  They 
hesitated;  but  as  Colonel  Brent  was  reported  to  be 
advancing  at  the  head  of  a  thousand  men,  Bacon 
ordered  the  drums  beat,  mustered  his  men,  and 
they  set  out  toward  the  Rappahanock  in  high 
spirits. 

On  that  afternoon  Bacon  was  occasionally  irrita 
ble;  at  other  times  he  became  hilarious,  and  at 
others  stupid.  Robert,  who  rode  at  his  side,  saw 
that  he  was  burning  with  fever,  and  he  was  glad 
that  night  when  they  camped. 

"Spread  a  tent  for  the  general,  for  he  is  sick," 


368  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

said  Robert.  The  men  could  not  realize  how  sick 
he  was.  Camp  fires  blazed.  Brent  was  but  a  few 
miles  away,  and  his  forces  were  deserting  him  by 
scores  and  coming  over  to  Bacon,  who  was  not 
thought  to  be  dangerously  ill.  When  Robert  en 
tered  his  tent  at  ten  that  night,  he  found  him  sitting 
up  giving  some  directions  for  the  quartering  of  new 
troops. 

"Are  you  better,  general?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  very  tired.  I  shall  lie  down  and  sleep. 
I  will  be  over  this  in  the  morning." 

As  long  as  Robert  lived,  he  remembered  those 
words.  He  knew  the  general  was  in  a  raging  fever, 
yet  he  little  thought  it  would  prove  fatal.  He 
went  to  his  own  quarters  on  that  October  night  and 
sought  repose.  It  was  an  hour  before  daylight, 
when  Mr.  Drummond  and  Mr.  Lawrence  awoke 
him. 

"General  Bacon  is  dead,"  they  said. 

"What!  dead?"  cried  Robert. 

"Yes,  dead  and  buried.  We  thought  it  best  to 
bury  him  in  the  forest  where  his  enemies  could  not 
find  him.  Brent  is  crushed ;  his  men  have  deserted 
him,  and  all  are  with  us.  The  general  died  very 
suddenly  in  the  arms  of  Major  Pate." 

It  was  the  purpose  of  the  friends  of  liberty  to 
keep  the  death  of  Bacon  a  secret,  and  there  is  some 
dispute  in  history  as  to  where  and  when  he  died. 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.         369 

News  of  this  character  cannot  be  suppressed.  It 
came  out,  and  the  republicans  of  Virginia  began 
to  lose  heart  from  that  hour,  while  the  royalists' 
hopes  increased. 

Another  general  was  elected  to  fill  the  place 
made  vacant  by  Bacon.  Drummond,  Stevens, 
Cheeseman,  or  Lawrence  might  have  organized  the 
army  and  led  them  to  victory;  but  the  foolish 
frontiersmen  chose,  instead  of  either  of  these  wise 
men,  a  grotesque  personage  named  Ingram,  who 
had  been  a  rope  dancer,  and  had  no  more  qualifica 
tions  for  so  important  a  position  than  an  organ 
grinder,  as  the  result  soon  proved.  He  was  un 
able  to  hold  them  together.  Colonel  Hansford,  the 
most  daring  young  officer  in  Bacon's  whole  army, 
was  captured  at  the  home  of  his  sweetheart,  and 
Berkeley,  to  whom  he  was  taken,  decreed  that  he 
should  be  hung. 

"Thomas  Hansford,"  cried  Berkeley,  "I  will 
quickly  repay  you  for  your  part  in  this  rebellion!" 

Colonel  Hansford  answered,  "I  ask  no  favor  but 
that  I  may  be  shot  like  a  soldier  and  not  hanged 
like  a  dog." 

The  governor  replied,  "  You  are  to  die,  not  as  a 
4  soldier,  but  as  a  rebel." 

Hansford  was  a  native  American  and  the  first 
white  native  (say  some  historians)  that  perished  on 
the  gibbet.     On  coming  to  the  gallows  he  said: 
24 


370  A   CENTU&Y  TOO  SOON. 

"  Take  notice,  I  die  a  loyal  subject  and  a  lover 
of  my  country." 

Terror-stricken,  the  followers  of  Bacon  began  to 
desert  the  new  general.  In  a  few  skirmishes  that 
followed,  they  were  worsted  and  broke  up  into 
small  bands. 

Hugh  Price  was  foremost  among  the  royalists 
searching  for  the  rebels.  He  hoped  to  find  his 
wife's  son  and  bring  him  to  the  gibbet,  for  Price 
hated  Kobert  with  a  hatred  that  was  demoniacal. 
Giles  Peram  took  courage,  and  mounting  a  horse, 
joined  the  troopers  in  galloping  about  the  country 
and  capturing  or  shooting  the  rebels,  who,  now 
that  their  spirits  were  broken,  seldom  made  any 
resistance. 

One  day  at  sunset  Hugh  Price  and  Giles  Peram 
suddenly  came  upon  a  wild-eyed,  haggard  young 
man,  mounted  upon  a  jaded  steed.  He  had  slept 
on  the  ground,  for  his  uncombed  hair  had  leaves 
still  sticking  to  it,  and  his  clothes  were  faded, 
soiled  and  torn.  The  evenings  were  cold,  it  being 
late  in  October,  and  the  fugitive  was  looking  about 
for  a  place  to  sleep.  At  a  glance,  both  recognized 
him  as  Robert  Stevens.  They  were  armed  with 
loaded  pistols,  while  Robert,  though  he  had  weap 
ons  in  his  holsters,  was  out  of  powder. 

"There  he  is,  Giles;  now  slay  him!"  cried  the 
step-father. 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.          371 

Robert  realized  his  danger,  and,  with  his  whip, 
lashed  his  horse  to  a  run.  There  came  the  report 
of  a  pistol  from  behind  and  a  bullet  whistled  above 
his  head. 

"Come  on,  Giles;  he  is  unarmed,"  cried  Mr. 
Price. 

"Oh,  are  you  quite  sure?"  cried  Giles. 

"I  am  sure.      He  is  out  of  ammunition." 

"That  is  extraordinary,  very  extraordinary." 
Mr.  Peram,  who  had  been  lingering  behind,  with 
this  assurance  urged  his  horse  alongside  the  step 
father. 

"He  is  heading  for  the  river!"  cried  Price. 

"Can  he  cross?" 

"No;  his  horse  could  scarcely  swim  it.  Try  a 
shot  at  him." 

Giles  Peram,  who  was  as  cruel  as  he  was  cowardly, 
drew  one  of  his  pistols,  as  he  galloped  along  over 
the  grassy  plain,  and  cocked  it. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  even  for  an  experienced 
marksman  to  hit  a  running  object  from  the  back  of 
a  flying  horse.  Giles,  after  leaning  first  to  one 
side,  then  to  the  other,  and  squinting  along  the 
barrel  of  his  pistol,  shut  both  eyes  and  pulled  the 
trigger.  When  the  smoke  cleared  away  Eobert 
was  seen  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his  saddle. 

"He  heads  for  the  river.  By  the  mass,  I  be 
lieve  he  is  going  to  plunge  into  it!"  cried  Price. 


372  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  river  was  in  view,  and  the  young  fugitive 
was  riding  toward  it  at  full  speed.  His  pursuers 
pressed  their  tired  steeds  in  his  rear,  and  Kobert 
knew  his  only  chance  for  life  was  to  swim  the 
stream.  He  uttered  an  encouraging  shout  to  his 
horse  as  that  noble  animal  sprang  far  out  into  the 
water.  Robert's  hat  fell  off  and  floated  near  the 
shore;  but  his  horse  swam  straight  across.  Hugh 
Price,  with  an  oath,  drew  his  remaining  pistol, 
galloped  to  the  water's  edge  and  fired.  The  ball 
struck  four  or  five  feet  to  Robert's  left  and  in  front 
of  him,  splashing  up  a  jet  of  water  where  it  plunged 
in.  At  the  instant  Hugh  fired,  Giles  Peram's  horse, 
unable  to  check  his  speed,  would  have  rushed  into 
the  river,  had  not  Price  seized  the  bit  and  stopped 
him.  Giles,  unprepared  for  so  sudden  a  halt,  went 
over  his  horse,  head  first  into  the  water. 

Being  a  poor  swimmer  and  greatly  frightened, 
he  would  no  doubt  have  drowned,  had  not  Hugh 
Price  gone  to  his  rescue  and  pulled  him  out.  By 
the  time  Giles  Peram  was  rescued  and  placed  safely 
on  shore,  Robert  Stevens  had  crossed  the  river  and 
was  ascending  the  bank. 

It  was  so  dark  that  they  could  just  see  the  outline 
of  the  fugitive,  before  he  disappeared  into  the  wood. 
Giles  Peram  was  shivering  from  his  sudden  plunge 
and  begged  to  go  to  camp,  so  Hugh  Price,  sympa 
thizing  with  him,  gave  up  the  man  hunt,  and  re- 


THE  BALI    STRUCK  FOUR    OR    FIVE    FEET    TO    ItOBKKT  !i    LEFT,    AND   IN    FHONT    OF 
HIM,  SPLASHING   UP  A  JET  OF  WATER. 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.          373 

turned  to  the  nearest  camp  of  royalists.  ""We  will 
have  him  yet.  He  shall  hang!"  said  Mr.  Price, 
by  way  of  consoling  his  friend  for  his  ducking. 

They  went  to  York,  where  Berkeley  had  estab 
lished  himself,  and  the  latter  commenced  a  reign  of 
terror  and  vengeance,  which  has  made  him  infa 
mous  in  history  as  the  most  bloodthirsty  tyrant  of 
America.  Major  Cheeseman  was  captured  with 
Captains  Wilford  and  Farlow.  The  two  captains 
were  hung  without  trial,  and  Cheeseman  was  thrown 
into  prison.  When  Edmund  Cheeseman  was  ar 
raigned  before  the  governor  and  was  asked  why 
he  engaged  in  Bacon's  wicked  scheme,  before  he 
could  answer,  his  young  wife  stepped  forward  and 
said: 

"  My  provocation  made  my  husband  join  in  the 
cause  for  which  Bacon  contended.  But  for  me, 
he  had  never  done  what  he  has  done.  Since  what 
is  done,"  she  sobbed,  falling  on  her  knees  in  an 
attitude  of  supplication,  with  her  head  bowed  and 
face  covered  with  her  hands,  "was  done  by  my 
means,  I  am  most  guilty;  let  me  bear  the  punish 
ment,  let  me  be  hanged,  but  let  my  husband  be 
pardoned." 

The  angry  governor  gazed  on  her  for  a  moment 
with  eyes  which  danced  in  fury;  then  he  cried: 

"Away  with  you!"  adding  a  brutal  remark  at 
which  manhood  might  well  blush.  Mrs.  Cheese- 


374  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

man  fainted,  and  her  husband  was  carried  away  to 
the  gallows.* 

So  fearful,  at  first,  was  the  cruel  old  baron  that 
some  of  his  intended  victims  might  escape  through 
a  verdict  of  acquittal  by  a  jury,  that  men  were 
taken  from  the  tribunal  of  a  court-martial  directly 
to  the  gallows,  without  the  forms  of  civil  law. 

For  a  time  after  Berkeley  was  established  at 
York,  Ingram  still  made  a  show  of  resistance,  but 
accepted  the  first  terms  offered  and  surrendered. 
Only  two  prominent  leaders  remained  uncaptured. 
These  were  Lawrence  and  Drummond.  Berkeley 
swore  he  could  not  sleep  well  until  they  were 
hanged.  The  surrender  of  Ingram  destroyed  even 
the  faintest  hope  of  reorganizing  the  patriot  army, 
and  Mr.  Drummond,  deserted  by  his  followers,  was 
captured  in  the  Chickahominy  swamp  and  hurried 
to  York  to  the  governor,  who  greeted  him  with 
bitter  irony. 

"Mr,  Drummond,"  he  said,  "you  are  very  wel 
come!  I  am  more  glad  to  see  you  than  any  man 
in  Virginia.  Mr.  Drummond,  you  shall  be  hanged 
in  half  an  hour." 

"What  your  honor  pleases,"  Mr.  Drummond 
boldly  answered.  "I  expect  no  mercy  from  you. 
I  have  followed  the  lead  of  my  conscience  and  did 

*Authorities  differ  as  to  the  death  of  Cheeseman.  Some 
say  he  was  hanged,  others  that  he  died  in  prison. 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.          375 

what  I  might  to  free  my  countrymen  from  oppres 
sion." 

He  was  condemned  at  one  o'clock  and  hanged  at 
four.  By  a  cruel  decree  of  the  governor,  his  brave 
wife  Sarah  was  denounced  as  a  traitress  and  ban 
ished  with  her  children  to  the  wilderness,  where, 
for  a  while,  they  were  forced  to  subsist  on  the 
charity  of  friends  almost  as  poor  as  they. 

Berkeley's  rage  was  not  yet  fully  satisfied.  The 
thoughtful  Mr.  Lawrence  had  taken  care  of  him 
self,  for  he  knew  but  too  well  what  to  expect, 
should  he  be  captured.  Weeks  passed  and  winter 
was  advanced  before  Berkeley  heard  of  him.  Then 
from  one  of  the  upper  plantations  came  the  report 
that  he  and  four  other  desperadoes  with  horses  and 
pistols  had  marched  away  in  sqow  ankle-deep. 
Some  hoped  they  had  perished  in  trying  to  swim 
the  head- waters  of  some  of  the  rivers;  but  they 
really  traveled  southward  into  North  Carolinia, 
where  they  were  safely  concealed  in  the  wilder 
ness. 

Berkeley  proved  himself  a  tiger,  as  he  had  proved 
himself  a  ruffian  in  insulting  Mrs.  Cheeseman.  The 
taste  of  blood  maddened  him.  He  tried  and  exe 
cuted  nearly  every  one  on  whom  he  could  lay  his 
hands.  Virginia  became  a  vast  jail  or  Tyburn 
Hill.  Four  men  were  hung  on  the  York,  several 
executed  on  the  other  side  of  the  James  River,  and 


876  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

one  was  "hanged  in  chains  at  "West  Point.  In  Feb 
ruary,  1677,  a  fleet  with  a  regiment  of  English 
troops  arrived,  and  a  formal  commission  to  try 
rebels  was  organized,  of  which  Berkeley  was  a 
member.  This  commission  determined  to  kill 
Bland,  who  had  been  captured  in  Accomac.  The 
friends  of  the  prisoner  in  England  had  procured 
and  sent  over  his  pardon;  but  the  commissioners 
were  privately  informed  that  the  Duke  of  York 
(afterward  James  II.)  had  sworn  that  "Bacon  and 
Bland  must  die,"  and  with  this  intimation  of  what 
would  be  agreeable  to  his  royal  highness,  Bland 
was  hung.  It  was  a  revel  of  blood.  In  almost 
every  county,  gibbets  rose  and  made  the  wayfarer 
shudder  and  turn  away  at  sight  of  their  ghastly 
burdens.  In  all,  twenty-three  persons  were  exe 
cuted,  and  Charles  II.,  disgusted  with  the  tyranny 
of  Berkeley,  declared: 

"That  old  fool  has  hanged  more  men  in  that 
naked  country  than  I  have  done  for  the  murder  of 
my  father." 

Shortly  after  the  execution  of  Mr.  Edmund 
Cheeseman,  and  before  the  arrival  of  the  English 
regiment,  the  first  British  troops  ever  brought  to 
Virginia,  Mr.  Hugh  Price,  who  was  very  active  in 
capturing  rebels,  one  evening  brought  in  a  miser 
able,  half-starved,  half-frozen  young  man,  whom 
he  had  found  lying  in  the  snow,  too  feeble  to  fly 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.    377 

or  resist.  Mr.  Price  was  especially  delighted  with, 
the  capture,  as  the  captive  was  Eobert  Stevens. 

Old  black  Sam  recognized  the  prisoner,  and  when 
he  had  been  thrust  in  jail  to  await  his  trial,  the  old 
negro  mounted  a  swift  horse  and  rode  all  night 
across  the  country  to  the  James  River.  Then,  steal 
ing  a  boat  at  one  of  the  plantations,  he  rowed  down 
the  stream  until  he  came  to  the  Despair^  on  board 
of  which  was  Mrs.  Price,  her  daughter  and  Ester. 

Sam's  story  caused  instantaneous  action,  and 
next  morning  at  daylight  Governor  Berkeley  was 
amazed  to  see  the  strange  ship  anchored  before  his 
quarters,  as  near  to  shore  as  she  could  be  brought. 
There  was  something  particularly  menacing  in  the 
vessel,  with  her  double  rows  of  guns  pointed  at  the 
shore  and  the  marines  all  on  deck  under  arms. 
Berkeley  was  alarmed.  A  boat  was  lowered,  and 
Sir  Albert  St.  Croix  came  ashore.  He  hurried  at 
once  into  the  governor's  presence. 

"Sir  Albert,  I  am  pleased  to  see  you;  yet  I  do 
not  understand  that  demonstration,"  said  the  gov 
ernor,  who,  like  all  tyrants,  was  a  coward.  "  Surely, 
you  do  not  mean  any  hostilities  toward  me." 

"That  depends  on  circumstances.  Have  you  a 
young  man  named  Stevens  prisoner?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  he  been  tried?" 

"He  has  and  has  been  condemned." 


378  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"To  hang?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  the  sentence  been  executed?"  asked  Sir 
Albert,  trembling  with  dread. 

"Not  yet." 

"Then  your  life  is  saved." 

"But  he  will  be  hanged  at  ten  o'clock." 

"He  shall  not!" 

"Why,  who  are  you,  that  dare  defy  me?" 

"Governor  Berkeley,"  said  Sir  Albert,  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  earnestness,  as  he  led  him  to 
the  window.  "Look  you  on  yon  ship  and  see  the 
guns  pointed  at  your  town.  But  harm  a  hair  of 
Robert  Stevens'  head,  and,  by  the  God  we  both 
worship,  I  will  blow  you  into  eternity!" 

Governor  Berkeley  sank  in  his  seat,  trembling 
with  rage  and  fear.  Must  he  let  one  go,  and  above 
all  Robert  Stevens,  whom  he  hated?  The  old  man 
continued: 

"  You  have  already  hanged  my  friends  Drum- 
mond  and  Cheeseman,  and  were  I  a  man  who  sought 
revenge,  I  would  destroy  you,  as  I  have  it  in  my 
power  to  do." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Hugh 
Price,  accompanied  by  Giles  Peram,  entered. 

"The  scaffold  is  all  ready  to  hang  Robert 
Stevens,"  said  Mr.  Price. 

"Ah!  marry,  it  is,  governor,  and  I  trow  he  will 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.         379 

make  a  merry  sight  dangling  from  it,"  put  in  Giles, 
a  smile  on  his  face. 

Sir  William  Berkeley's  face  was  deathly  white; 
but  he  made  no  response.  Mr.  Price,  who  feared 
his  wife's  son  might  yet  escape,  urged: 

"Governor,  the  scaffold  is  ready.  Come,  give 
the  order  for  the  execution." 

Sir  Albert  coolly  drew  from  his  coat  pocket  a 
legal  looking  document  and,  laying  it  before  the 
governor,  said  in  a  commanding  tone: 

"Sign,  sir." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"A  pardon  for  Eobert  Stevens." 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  Hugh  Price,  rushing  for 
ward  to  interfere. 

"Back,  devil,  lest  I  forget  humanity!"  cried  Sir 
Albert,  and,  seizing  Hugh  Price  by  the  throat,  he 
hurled  him  against  the  wall.  For  a  moment,  the 
cavalier  was  stunned,  then,  rising,  he  snatched  his 
sword  from  its  sheath. 

Sir  Albert  was  not  one  whit  behind  in  drawing 
his  own  blade,  and,  as  steel  clashed  against  steel, 
Giles  Peram  shouted: 

"Oh,  Lordy!  I  will  be  killed!"  and  ran  from 
the  room.  There  was  but  one  clash  of  swords, 
then  Price's  weapon  flew  from  his  hand,  and  he  ex 
pected  to  be  run  through;  but  Sir  Albert  coolly 
said: 


380  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

"Begone,  Hugh  Price!  Your  life,  is  in  my 
hands;  but  I  do  not  want  it.  You  are  not  pre 
pared  to  die.  Get  thee  hence,  lest  I  forget  myself. " 

Price  left  the  room,  and  Sir  Albert,  turning  to 
Berkeley,  asked: 

"Have  you  signed  the  pardon,  governor?" 

"Here  it  is." 

"Now  order  his  release." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Eobert,  who  expected  to 
suffer  death  on  the  scaffold,  was  liberated. 

"I  owe  this  to  you,  kind  sir,"  he  cried,  seizing 
Sir  Albert's  hand. 

"I  promised  to  save  you,  and  I  always  keep  my 
promise." 

"Do  you  know  aught  of  my  mother,  sister,  and 
Ester?" 

"All  are  safe  aboard  my  vessel."  « 

"Why  do  you  take  such  interest  in  us,  Sir 
Albert?  You  are  like  a  father  to  me." 

"Do  you  remember  your  father?" 

"I  can  just  remember  him.  He  was  a  noble 
man  with  a  kind  heart.  Did  you  know  him?" 

"Yes;  he  was  my  friend.      I  knew  him  well." 

"  Would  to  heaven  he  had  remained;  our  misery 
would  not  have  been  so  great." 

"  We  are  all  in  the  hands  of  inexorable  fate;  but 
let  us  talk  no  more.  You  will  have  a  full  pardon 
from  Charles  II.  soon,  and  then  that  old  fool  will 


VENGEANCE  WITH  A  VENGEANCE.    381 

not  dare  to  harm  }TOU.  Not  only  will  you  be  par 
doned  but  Ester  GofTe  as  well." 

"How  know  you  this?"  asked  Robert. 

"I  have  sent  to  the  king  for  the  pardons,  and 
he  will  deny  me  nothing." 

"  Then  I  shall  wed  Ester  and  return  to  my  father's 
plantation  to  pass  my  days  in  peace." 

"Do  so,  Robert,  and  ever  remember  that  what 
ever  you  have,  you  owe  it  to  your  unfortunate 
father.  God  grant  that  your  life  may  be  less  stormy 
than  his." 

When  they  went  on  board  the  Despair,  there  was 
a  general  rejoicing. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  our  deliverer!"  cried  Re 
becca,  placing  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  Sir 
Albert  and  kissing  him  again  and  again. 

Years  seemed  to  have  rolled  away,  and  once  more 
the  father  felt  the  soft,  warm  arms  of  his  baby 
about  his  neck.  The  ancient  eyes  grew  dim,  and 
tears,  welling  up,  overflowed  and  trickled  down 
the  furrowed  cheeks. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

So  live,  that  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join 
The  innumerable  caravan,  that  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 
Thou  go  not,  like  the  quarry-slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon  ;  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave, 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 

—BRYANT. 

THAT  strange  ship  .Despair  still  lingered  before 
the  headquarters  of  the  governor,  much  to  his  an 
noyance.  In  February,  1677,  when  the  ships  and 
soldiers  came  from  England,  they  brought  a  full 
and  free  pardon  for  Robert  Stevens  and  Ester  Goffe. 

"What  power  hath  that  strange  old  wizard  that 
he  leads  kings  as  it  were  by  the  nose?"  asked  the 
governor. 

"  'Fore  God,  I  know  not,  governor,"  put  in  Hugh 
Price.  "I  would  rather  all  the  rebels  in  Bacon's 
army  should  have  escaped  than  this  one." 

As  Robert  was  about  to  depart  from  the  vessel 
382 


CONCLUSION.  383 

to  repair  his  father's  estates,  near  Jamestown,  Sir 
Albert  took  him  aside  and  said: 

"  Money  you  will  find  in  abundance  for  your  es 
tate.  Henceforth,  take  no  part  in  the  quarrels  of 
your  country.  Hot-blooded  politicians  bring  on 
these  quarrels,  and  they  leave  the  common  people 
to  fight  their  battles.  The  care  of  your  sister,  she 
who  is  to  be  your  wife,  and  your  unfortunate 
mother  will  engage  all  your  time." 

"But  Mr.  Price,  what  shall  I  do  with  him?" 

"Harm  him  not." 

"He  will  harm  me,  I  trow." 

"No,  not  with  the  king's  favor  on  you;  he  dare 
not." 

Eobert  promised  to  heed  all  the  excellent  advice 
of  Sir  Albert,  and  he  set  forth  with  his  slaves  and 
a  full  purse  to  repair  the  ruined  estates  on  the 
James  River.  He  met  many  old  friends  to  whom 
he  was  kind.  They  asked  him  many  questions 
regarding  his  mysterious  benefactor;  but  Robert 
assured  them  that  he  was  as  much  a  mystery  to 
him  as  to  them. 

Hugh  Price  and  his  associate,  Giles  Peram,  were 
nonplussed,  puzzled  and  intimidated  by  the  strong, 
vigorous,  and  at  the  same  time  mysterious  arm 
which  had  suddenly  been  raised  to  protect  him 
whom  they  hated. 

"  It  is  extraordinary !     It  is  very  extraordinary !" 


384  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

declared  Peram,  clearing  his  throat  and  strutting 
over  the  floor. 

"Where  is  your  wife?" 

"On  board  the  ship  Despair." 

"Bring  her  home.  "Why  do  you  not  send  and 
bring  her  home?  The  trouble  is  over,  and  we 
have  put  down  the  rebellion." 

"I  will." 

After  the  arrival  of  the  commission  and  soldiers 
from  England,  the  hanging  went  on  at  a  brisk 
pace,  and  Mrs.  Price  had  lived  like  one  stupefied 
on  board  the  Despair,  not  daring  to  go  ashore.  She 
seldom  spoke,  and  never  save  when  addressed. 
She  acted  so  strangely,  that  her  daughter  feared 
she  was  losing  her  mind.  All  day  long  she  would 
sit  with  her  sad  eyes  on  the  floor,  and  she  had  not 
smiled  since  she  came  aboard. 

"When  the  messenger  came  from  the  shore,  with 
the  command  from  Hugh  Price  for  her  to  come  to 
the  home  he  had  provided,  she  started  like  a  guilty 
person  detected  in  crime.  Turning  her  great,  sad 
eyes  on  the  man  who  had  been  their  protector  in 
their  hour  of  peril,  she  asked: 

"Shall  I  go?" 

"  The  place  of  a  good  wife  is  with  her  husband," 
he  answered. 

Then  Rebecca,  appealing  to  him,  asked: 

"Must  I  obey  Hugh  Price?" 


CONCLUSION.  385 

"Is  he  your  father?" 

"No." 

"Yon  are  of  age?" 

"I  am." 

"Then  choose  with  whom  you  will  live,  Hugh 
Price,  or  with  your  brother  on  the  James  River." 

"I  will  live  with  my  brother." 

Mrs.  Price  cast  her  eyes  on  the  river  filled  with 
floating  ice  and,  shuddering,  said: 

"The  water  is  so  dark  and  cold,  and  the  boat  is 
so  frail." 

"Shall  I  take  you  in  mine?"  asked  Sir  Albert. 

"Will  you?" 

"If  you  desire  it." 

The  boat  was  lowered,  and  Mrs.  Price  was  ten 
derly  assisted  into  it.  Then  he  climbed  down  into 
the  stern,  seized  the  rudder,  and  gave  the  command 
to  his  four  sturdy  oarsmen : 

"Pull  ashore." 

It  was  a  bleak,  cold,  wintry  day.  The  wrind 
swept  down  the  ice-filled  river.  From  the  deck, 
closely  muffled  in  wraps  and  robes,  Rebecca  saw  her 
mother  and  Sir  Albert  depart  for  the  snow-clad 
shore.  Her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears,  for  she 
knew  how  unhappy  her  mother  was.  As  she 
watched  the  boat  gliding  forward  amid  the  floating 
blocks  of  ice,  she  was  occasionally  alarmed  at  the 
seeming  narrow  escapes  it  made. 
25 


386  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

The  current  was  very  swift,  for  the  tide  was  run 
ning  out,  and  tons  of  ice  were  all  about  the  boat; 
but  a  skilful  hand  was  at  the  helm,  and  the  little 
boat  darted  hither  and  thither,  from  point  to  point, 
safely  through  the  waters.  Once  she  was  quite  sure 
it  would  be  crushed  between  two  small  icebergs; 
but  it  glided  swiftly  out  of  danger. 

The  nearer  they  approached  the  shore,  the  denser 
became  the  ice  pack,  and  the  danger  accordingly 
increased.  At  almost  every  moment,  Rebecca  ut 
tered  an  exclamation  of  fear  lest  the  boat  should  be 
crushed. 

Just  as  she  thought  all  danger  was  over,  and 
when  they  were  within  a  short  distance  of  shore,  a 
heavy  cake  of  ice,  which  had  been  sucked  under  by 
the  current,  suddenly  burst  upward  with  such  fury 
as  to  crush  the  boat.  The  shrieks  of  the  unfor 
tunate  occupants  filled  the  air  for  a  single  second, 
then  all  sank  below  the  cold  waves. 

Two  heads  rose  to  the  surface  a  second  later,  and 
those  on  the  ship  as  well  as  those  on  shore  recog 
nized  them  as  Sir  Albert  St.  Croix  and  Mrs.  Price. 
Holding  the  screaming  woman  in  one  arm,  Sir 
Albert  nobly  struck  out  for  shore,  and  no  doubt 
would  have  reached  it,  for  he  was  a  bold  swimmer, 
had  not  a  large  cake  of  ice  borne  them  down  to  a 
watery  grave. 

When  they  were  found,  three  days  later,  they 


CONCLUSION.  387 

were  closely  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Eobert 
Stevens  came  from  Jamestown,  and  he  and  his 
sister  had  the  body  of  their  mother  buried  at  the 
old  churchyard  in  the  ruins  of  Jamestown.  Sir 
Albert  was  also,  by  order  of  his  captain,  buried  at 
the  same  place. 

All  winter  long,  Captain  Small  of  the  Despair  re 
mained  in  the  York  Eiver;  but  at  early  spring  he 
came  to  the  James  River  and,  summoning  both 
Robert  and  Rebecca  aboard  his  vessel,  informed 
them  that  his  dead  master  had,  by  a  will,  left  them 
a  vast  fortune  in  money,  jewels  and  lands,  in  both 
America  and  England. 

"He  also  gave  you  the  ship  Despair,"  concluded 
the  captain. 

"This  is  very  strange,"  said  Robert.  "lean 
scarcely  believe  it." 

Captain  Small,  however,  had  the  will  to  prove  it. 

"Now  what  will  you  do  with  the  ship?"  the  cap 
tain  asked. 

"What  do  you  advise?  We  know  nothing  of 
such  matters." 

"She  would  make  an  excellent  merchantman, 
and  I  would  be  willing1  to  rent  her  of  vou  and  give 

c  */  <— ' 

you  one  hal'f  the  profits." 

"No,  no,  captain;  take  her,  and  give  us  one 
fourth." 

Captain  Small  was  delighted  with  his  new  em- 


388  A  CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

ployer's  liberality,  and  the  name  Despair  was 
changed  to  Hope.  The  vessel  soon  became  famous 
as  a  merchantman  all  over  the  world.  Her  honest 
master,  Captain  Small,  became  wealthy,  at  the  same 
time  increasing  the  wealth  of  the  owners. 

Robert  and  Ester  Goffe  were  married  one  year 
after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Price.  Hugh  Price  never 
molested  Robert,  but  gave  himself  up  to  dissipation 
and  was  killed  in  a  drunken  brawl  two  years  after 
his  wife's  death.  Giles  Peram  continued  to  make 
himself  a  nuisance  about  the  home  of  Robert 
Stevens  and  to  annoy  his  sister,  until  the  indignant 
brother  horsewhipped  him  and  drove  him  from  the 
premises.  Shortly  after  Giles  was  seized  with  fever 
of  which  he  died. 

Rebecca  went  with  her  brother  and  his  wife  to 
Massachusetts  on  a  visit  and,  while  there,  met  a 
young  Englishman  of  good  family,  whom  she  mar 
ried  within  a  year  and  took  up  her  abode  in  New 
England,  while  Robert  returned  to  Virginia  to  pass 
his  days  in  the  land  of  his  nativity,  the  wealthiest 
and  one  of  the  most  respected  in  the  colony. 

One  evening,  five  years  after  the  removal  of 
Berkeley,  a  stranger  rode  to  Robert's  plantation. 
His  face  was  bronzed  and  his  frame  hardened  by  ex 
posure  and  hardships;  but  his  eye  had  the  flash  of 
an  eagle's.  It  was  dusk  when  he  reached  Robert's 
plantation,  and  he  took  the  planter  aside  and  asked: 


CONCLUSION.  389 

"Do  you  not  know  me?" 

"No." 

"Lawrence,"  the  stranger  whispered. 

"What!  Mr.  Lawrence?" 

"Whist!  do  not  breathe  it  too  loud.  I  am  pro 
scribed,  and  though  Berkeley  is  gone,  Culpepper, 
his  successor,  is  no  friend  of  mine.  All  believe 
me  dead,  so  I  am  to  the  world;  but  I  have  some 
thing  to  tell  you  of  yourself  and  your  parents  that 
will  interest  you." 

Then  Mr.  Lawrence  told  Robert  a  sad  story 
which  brought  tears  to  his  eves  before  it  was 

«/ 

finished. 

"I  have  come  at  the  risk  of  my  life  from  Caro- 
linia  to  tell  you  this,  nry  friend.  I  promised  never 
to  reveal  it  while  he  lived;  but,  now  that  both  are 
gone,  it  were  best  that  you  know." 

Robert  tried  to  prevail  on  him  to  remain ;  but  he 
would  not,  and,  mounting  his  horse,  he  galloped 
away  into  the  darkness.  Stevens  never  saw  or 
heard  of  the  "thoughtful  Mr.  Lawrence"  again. 

A  few  days  later  a  man,  passing  the  old  grave 
yard  at  Jamestown,  observed  that  the  body  of  Sir 
Albert  St.  Croix  had  been  removed  and  placed  by 
the  side  of  the  woman  whom  he  died  to  save.  A 
month  later,  on  a  head-stone,  appeared  the  follow 
ing  strange  inscription: 

"Father  and  mother  sleep  here." 


390  A   CENTURY  TOO  SOON. 

Before  closing  this  volume,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  revert  once  more  to  the  tyrant  whose  misrule  of 
Virginia  had  brought  about  Bacon's  Eebellion.  At 
last,  the  assembly  had  to  beg  Berkeley  to  desist, 
which  he  did  with  reluctance.  A  writer  of  the 
period  said,  "I  believe  the  governor  would  have 
hanged  half  the  country  if  they  had  let  him 
alone."  He  was  finally  induced  to  consent  that  all 
the  rebels  should  be  pardoned  except  about  fifty 
leaders — Bacon  at  the  head  of  them ;  but  these  chief 
leaders  were  attainted  of  treason,  and  their  estates 
were  confiscated.  First  to  suffer  was  the  small 
property  of  the  unfortunate  Drummond;  but  here 
Berkeley  found  the  hidden  rock  on  which  his  bark 
wrecked,  for  this  roused  the  voice  of  the  banished 
Sarah  Drummond,  and  her  cry  from  the  wilderness 
of  Virginia  went  across  the  broad  Atlantic  and 
reached  the  throne  of  England.  She  had  friends  in 
high  places  in  the  Old  World,  and  she  was  re 
stored,  and  Berkeley  was  censured  for  what  he  had 
done. 

All  laws  made  by  Bacon  were  repealed  by  proc 
lamation,  and  the  royalists  triumphed;  but  Gov 
ernor  Berkeley  was  ill  at  ease.  The  Virginians 
hated  him  for  his  merciless  vengeance  on  their 
people,  and  a  rumor  reached  his  ears  that  he  was  no 
better  liked  in  England.  The  very  king  whom  he 
had  served  turned  against  him,  and,  worn  down  by 


CONCLUSION. 


391 


sickness  and  a  troubled  spirit,  he  sailed  for  Eng 
land.  All  Virginia  rejoiced  at  his  departure,  and 
salutes  were  fired  and  bonfires  blazed,  and  all 
nature  seemed  to  rejoice  in  the  blessed  hope  that 
the  reign  of  tyranny  was  ended  forever. 


HISTOEIOAL  INDEX. 


PAGE 

Address  of    the  Massachusetts    Legislature  to   King 

Charles  II 252 

Albemarle  has  Stevens  appointed  governor 160 

Alderman,  slayer  of  King  Philip 279 

Andros,  Major  Edward,  commissioned  to  receive  the 

surrender  of  New  York 149 

Andros  and  Captain  Ball  at  Saybrook 246 

Angel  of  deliverance 260 

Arlington  and  Culpepper  grants  denounced  by  Bacon. .  304 

Arrival  of  the  first  English  troops  in  Virginia 376 

Assembly  begs  Berkeley  to  desist  in  hanging  rebels. . . .  390 

A  ttack  on  the  swamp  fort , 273 

Austin,  Anna,  the  fanatical  Quaker 120 

Bacon,  Nathaniel 303 

Bacon's  "  Quarter  Branch  " 304 

Bacon's  threat 305 

Bacon  sends  a  messenger  to  Jamestown  for  his  com 
mission  309 

Bacon  defeats  the  Indians 312 

Bacon  arrested 313 

Bacon's  confession 316 

Bacon's  flight 330 

Bacon  rousing  his  friends 335 

Bacon  marching  on  Jamestown 336 

Bacon  captures  Jamestown 336 

Bacon  and  Berkeley  meet 337 

Bacon  commissioned  by  Berkeley 339 

Bacon  hangs  Berkeley's  spy 343 

Bacon  urged  to  depose  Berkeley 343 

Bacon's  Indian  campaign 346 

393 


394  HISTORICAL    INDEX. 

PAGE 

Bacon  again  rallying  his  hosts 352 

Bacon  uses  the  wives  of  royalists  as  shields 353 

Bacon  repulses  the  attack  of  Berkeley's  longshoremen.  355 

Bacon  besieges  Jamestown 356 

Bacon  enters  Jamestown 357 

Bacon  burns  Jamestown 365 

Bacon  marches  to  meet  the  foe  on  the  Potomac 366 

Bacon  ill 367 

Bacon's  death  a  mystery 368 

Bacon  rebels  attainted  of  treason 390 

Bacon's  laws  repealed 390 

Baconites  deserting  Ingram 370 

Battle  between  Claybourne  and  Calvert  on  the  Potomac  22 

Battle  of  the  Severn,  March  25,  1654 27 

Battle  of  Brookfield 268 

Battle  of  Bloody  Run 312 

Bennett,  Richard,  succeeds  Berkeley 26 

Berkeley,  Sir  William,  Governor  of  Virginia 22 

Berkeley,  Sir  William,  character  of 23 

Berkeley's  proclamation  against  Puritan  pastors 24 

Berkeley  invites  Charles  II.  to  come  to  Virginia 26 

Berkeley,  deposed  by  roundheads  in  1650,  retires  to 

Greenspring  Manor 26 

Berkeley  restored  in  1660  by  Charles  II 124 

Berkeley's  opinion  of  free  schools  and  printing 285 

Berkeley  informs  home  government  that  all  trouble 

with  the  Indians  is  happily  over 306 

Berkeley's  excuse  for  refusing  Bacon's  commission. . .  308 

Berkeley  denounces  Bacon  as  a  rebel 309 

Berkeley  pardons  Bacon 317 

Berkeley  preparing  to  resist  Bacon 336 

Berkeley  and  Bacon  meet 337 

Berkeley  revokes  Bacon's  commission  and  denounces 

him  a  rebel 342 

Berkeley  in  possession  of  Jamestown 346 

Berkeley  demands  surrender  of  Jamestown 351 


HISTORICAL   INDEX.  395 

PAGE 

Berkeley's  attack  on  Bacon's  works 354 

Berkeley's  tyranny  at  York 373 

Berkeley's  departure  from  Virginia 391 

Berkeley's  territory  conveyed  to  the  Duke  of  York 150 

Bland,  execution  of 376 

Brent  reported  advancing 367 

Buckingham  succeeds  Clarendon 256 

Burning  of  Jamestown 363 

Calvert,  Sir  George,  at  Jamestown,  1630 20 

Calvert,  Governor  of  Maryland 21 

Carolinia,  William  Hawley,  governor  of 56 

Carolinia  settled  by  New  Englanders 57 

Carolinia  constitution 159 

Carteret,  New  Jersey  conveyed  to 151 

Carteret  enters  New  Jersey  with  a  hoe  on  his  shoulder.   154 

Carteret,  Governor  of  New  Jersey,  deposed 249 

Census  of  New  England  in  1675 257 

Charles  I.  beheaded  in  1649 25 

Charles  II.  declared  king  of  England  in  1660 112 

Charles  II.  pursuing  the  judges  of  his  father 200 

Charles  II. ,  character  of 204 

Charles  II.  profligate  and  careless 259 

Charles  II.  's  opinion  of  Sir  William  Berkeley 376 

Cheeseman,  trial  of 373 

Cheeseman's  death 374 

Cheeseman,  Mrs. ,  before  Berkeley 373 

Church  and  his  men  surrounded  at  Punkateeset 266 

Clarendon  in  exile 256 

Claybourne,  William,  the  great  rebel,  at  Kent  Island. .     21 
Clove,   Anthony,   governor  of  reconquered  New  Am 
sterdam  148 

Coddington's,  W7illiam,  commission  for  governing  isl 
ands  within  limits  of  Ehode  Island  charter  .  .  247 
Commissioners  sent  to  demand  Massachusetts  charter.  251 
Connecticut  obtains  a  new  charter  under  Winthrop  . ..   155 
Connecticut  after  the  restoration 244 


396  HISTORICAL   INDEX. 

PAGE 

Connecticut  under  Winthrop  procures  another  consti  - 

tution 245 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  rules  England  as  Protector 25 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  dies  in  1658  and  names  his  son 

Richard  as  his  successor 112 

Culpepper,  Lord,  and  Arlington  receive  from  Charles  II. 

grant  of  all  Virginia  for  thirty-one  years  ....  293 

Curies,  Bacon's  home 303 

Death  of  Nathaniel  Bacon 368 

De  Vries  robbed  by  the  Indians 39 

De  Vries  chosen  president  of  popular  assembly 41 

Dixwell,  John,  one  of  the  executioners  of  Charles  I  ...  201 
Drummond,  William,  appointed  Governor  of  Carolinia 

in  1666 123 

Drummond  brings  North  Caroliuia  into  notice  of  the 

world 158 

Drummond  before  Berkeley 374 

Drummond,  execution  of 375 

Drummond,  Sarah,  banished  with  her  children 375 

Drummond' s,  Sarah,  appeal  reaches  the  throne 390 

Dutch  capture  New  York 148 

Dyer,  Mary,  execution  of 122 

Effect  of  the  restoration  on  Virginia 123 

Elizabeth  town,  New  Jersey,  founded  by  Carteret 248 

Elliott,  John,  missionary  among  Indians 258 

Emigrants  to  Carolinia 122 

Emigrants  to  New  Jersey  from  New  England 249 

English  government  in  a  state  of  chaos  after  the  death 

of  Cromwell 112 

Endicott,  John,  Governor  of  Massachusetts 120 

Execution  of  Robinson  and  Stevenson 121 

Farlow,  Captain,  hung  by  Berkeley 273 

Fisher,  Mary,  in  Massachusetts 120 

Forebodings  of  war 265 

Gathering  of  Virginians  at  Curies 307 

Goffe  and  the  fencing-master 198 


HISTORICAL   INDEX.  397 

PAGE 

Goffe,    William,    one  of  the  judges  who  tried  and  con 
demned  Charles  1 200 

Goffe  and  Whalley  hiding  from  the  king's  men 201 

Gorges  recovers  his  claim 253 

Greene,  Roger,  guide  into  Carolinia  wilderness 58 

Greenspring  Manor,  Berkeley's  country  residence 23 

Grievances  of  Virginians 293 

Hadley  attacked  by  the  Indians 259 

Hausford,  Colonel,  prepares  to  resist  Berkeley 350 

Hausfoid  abandons  Jamestown 351 

Hansford  hung 369 

Harvey,  Sir  John,  Governor  of  Virginia  in  1629 20 

Harvey,  Sir  John,  deposed  by  Wert 20 

Hawley,  Governor  of  Carolinia 56 

Heath,  Sir  Robert,  receives  patent   to  lauds  south  of 

Virginia 56 

Hollanders  attack  Indians  at  Hoboken 42 

Indian  war  of  1644 24 

Indians  in  New  Amsterdam  driven  to  New  Jersey W) 

Indian  advancement  in  education 258 

Indians'  lands  taken  from  them 263 

Ingram  chosen  in  place  of  Bacon 369 

Ingrain's  surrender 374 

James,  Duke  of  York,  has  all  New  Netherland  granted 

to  him  by  his  brother  Charles  II 113 

Jamestown  besieged  by  Bacon 356 

Jamestown  captured  by  Bacon 357 

Jamestown  destroyed  by  Bacon  and  has  never  been  re 
built  363 

Judges  who  tried  and  condemned  Charles  1 200 

Kieft,  Governor  of  New  Netherland,  demands  the  mur 
derer  of  the  wheelwright 40 

Kieft  sends  an  expedition  against  the  Indians 42 

Kieft  recalled,  perishes  on  his  way  to  Holland 44 

King  Philip  aims  a  blow  at   Hadley,    Hatfield  and 

Northampton 271 


398  HISTORICAL    INDEX. 

PAGE 

King's  men,  character  of 286 

Lancaster  attacked  by  Indians 274 

Lawrence  escapes  into  the  wilds  of  North  Carolinia. . .  375 

Law  against  Quakers  repealed  in  1661 122 

Laws  made  by  Bacon  repealed 390 

Longtail,  Claybourne's  trading  ship 21 

Lovelace  appointed  Governor  of  New  York 146 

Massachusetts  controls  the  New  England  confederacy.     52 

Massachusetts'  charter  threatened 205 

Massachusetts  after  the  restoration 250 

Massachusetts  not  punished  for  her  defiance 256 

Massasoit,  death  of,  1661 261 

Matapoiset,  attack  on 277 

Meeting  between  Carteret  and  Nicolls 153 

Middle  Plantation  oath 344 

Money  first  coined   in  North  America  (in  Massachu 
setts)  ,  1652 52 

Muddy  Brook,  fight  at 270 

Narragan setts,  Philip  among 271 

Navigation  act,  one  of  Virginia's  grievances 293 

New  Amsterdam  granted  a  government  like  the  free 

cities  of  Holland 47 

New  Amsterdam  conquered  by  the  English  and  changed 

to  New  York 117 

New  England  confederation 51 

New  England,  growth  of 52 

New  England  colonies  slandered 205 

New  Haven  colony 155 

New  Jersey,  how  effected  by  change 149 

New  Jersey  charter 151 

New  Jersey's  encouragement  to  emigrants 152 

New  Jersey  falls  into  the  hands  of  the  Dutch 250 

New  York  not  represented  in  Parliament 146 

New  York  attacked  by  the  Dutch 147 

New  York  re-captured  by  the  Dutch  and  re-christened 

New  Amsterdam. . .  .   148 


HISTORICAL   INDEX.  399 

PAGE 

Nicolls,  Col.  Richard,  arrives  at  New  Amsterdam 113 

Nicolls  succeeded  by  Lovelace  in  166?  as  the  governor 

of  New  York 140 

Nipmucks,  Philip  among 2C8 

North  Carolinia's  first  legislature  in  1666 161 

Nutten  (now  Governor's  Island),  Indians  agree  to  go 

to 51 

Old  Dominion,  how  Virginia  derived  the  name  of  ....  124 

Oliverian  plot 181 

Opechancanough  captured  when  almost  one  hundred 

years  old  and  assassinated. . .  24 

Orange  changed  to  Albany 145 

Parliament  orders  a  fleet  to  Virginia  in  1650 26 

Pavonia,  the  territory  of  Pauw 150 

Philip's,  King,  opposition  to  Avar 262 

Philip,  King,  weeps  on  hearing  that  white  man's 

blood  has  been  shed 264 

Philip,  King,  among  the  Nipmucks 268 

Philip,  King,  pursued 278 

Philip,  King,  death  of 279 

Pokanokets  rejected  Christianity 262 

Popular  assembly,  the  first  at  New  Amsterdam 41 

Population  of  Virginia 284 

Printz,  governor  of  Swedes  in  Delaware 46 

Puritans  of  New  England 53 

Quakers  persecuted  in  Massachusetts 120 

Quitrents  demanded  of  people  in  New  Jersey 249 

Raritans  of  New  Jersey  persecuted  by  the  Dutch 39 

Rhode  Island  granted  a  new  charter  in  1644 247 

Rhode  Island  granted  another  charter  in  1663 248 

Rising,  John,  on  the  Delaware 4? 

Roundheads  conquer  Virginia  in  1653 3 

Rowland.son,  Mrs.,  narrative  of  attack  on  her  house. . .  274 

Royalists,  triumph  of 390 

Sassaman,  John,  Christian  Indian  who  betrayed  the 

plans  of  Philip 265 


400  HISTORICAL   INDEX. 

PAGE 

Savage  sent  to  Mount  Hope 265 

South  Kingston,  Indians  at 272 

Stuyvesant,   Peter,   sent  as  governor  to  New  Amster 
dam  44 

Stuyvesant  forms  treaty  with  New  England 45 

Stuy vesant  and  the  Swedes  on  the  Delaware 46 

Stuyvesant  recaptures  Fort  Cassimer 48 

Stuyvesant's  answer  to  the  English  demand  to  surren 
der 115 

Stuyvesant  consents  to  surrender  New  Amsterdam  ....  117 

Stuyvesaut  goes  to  Holland 114 

Stuyvesant  returns  to  New  York 145 

Sudbury,  attack  on 276 

Suffrage  confined  to  freeholders,  under  Charles  II 293 

Swansey,  beginning  of  King  Philip's  war  on 264 

Swedes  on  the  Delaware,  trouble  with 45 

Swen,  Schute,   captures  Fort  Cassimer  and  names  it 

Fort  Trinity 47 

Van  Dyck  kills  an  Indian  squaw  in  his  peach  orchard.  49 

Van  Dyck  killed  by  Indians  in  retaliation 50 

Vane,  Sir  Henry,  a  victim  of  the  restoration 201 

Vane,  Sir  Henry,  executed 204 

Virgiuiadivided  into  eight  shires 21 

Virginia  restored  to  monarchy 124 

Virginia  threatened  with  civil  war 283 

Virginia,  home  ruled 283 

Virginia's  defence,  1675 284 

Washington,  Major  John,  kills  Indians  while  bringing 

a  flag  of  truce 294 

Whalley,  one  of  Cromwell's  generals 200 

Wheelwright  murdered  by  Indians 40 

Wilford.  Captain,  hung  by  Berkeley 373 

Windsor,  Indian  attack  on 271 

Winthrop  and  Governor  Stuyvesant    115 

Winthrop,  John,  and  Charles  II 245 


OHKOKOLOGY. 


PERIOD  VI.— AGE  OF  TYRANNY. 

A.D.   1643  TO  A.D.   1680. 

1644.  SECOND  INDIAN  MASSACRE  in  Virginia ;  300  whites 

killed,— April  18. 

1645.  CLAIBORNE'S  REBELLION  in  Maryland;    Gov.  Cal- 

vert  fled  to  Virginia. 

1649.  CHARLES  I.,   King  of  Great  Britain,  beheaded, — 

Jan.  30. 

1650.  FIRST   SETTLEMENT    in    North   Carolina,    on    the 

Chowan  River,  near  Edenton. 

1653.  OLIVER  CROMWELL  appointed  Lord  Protector  of 
Great  Br^ain, — Dec.  16. 

1655.  RELIGIOUS  WAR  in   Maryland  between  Protestants 

and  Catholics  ;  New  Sweden  conquered  by  the 
Dutch. 

1656.  QUAKERS  came  to  Massachusetts ;  cruel  treatment 

by  Puritans. 

1660.  MONARCHY  restored  in  Great  Britain;  Charles  II. 
king,— May  29. 

NAVIGATION  ACTS  passed  restricting  colonial  tratie. 
1663.  CLARENDON  GRANT  to  Lord  Clarendon  and  others, — 
March  24.      (This  grant  extended  from  30°  to 
36°  lat. .  and  from  ocean  to  ocean.) 

CHARTER  OF  RHODE  ISLAND,  giving  religious  liber 
ties,  granted, — July  8. 

26  401 


402  CHRONOLOGY. 

1664.  NEW  NETHERLANDS  granted  to  the  Duke  of  York 

and  Albany, — March  12. 
NEW  JERSEY  granted  to  Berkeley  and  Carteret,  — 

June  24. 
STUYVESANT    surrenders    New    Amsterdam    (New 

York  City). 

FORT  ORANGE,   N.  Y. ,  named  Albany, — Sept.  24. 
ELIZABETH,  N.  J. ,  settled  by  emigrants  from  Long 

Island. 

1665.  CONNECTI^M  AND  NEW  HAVEN  united  under   the 

name  of  Connecticut, — May 

SECOND  CHARTER  of  Carolina  ;  boundary  extended 
to  29  lat.,— June  30. 

CLARENDON  COLONY,  near  Wilmington,  N.  C. ,  per 
manently  settled. 

1670.  DETROIT,  MICH.,  settled  by  the  French. 
CARTERET  COLONY  settled  on  Ashley  River,  near 

Charleston,  S.  C. 

1671.  MARQUETTE  established  the  Mission  of  St.  Ignatius, 

at  Michilimackinac. 

1673.  VIRGINIA  granted  to  Culpepper  and  Islington. 
MARQUETTE  AND  JOLIETTE  explored  the  Mississippi 

River  to  the  Arkansas. 

1674.  MARQUETTE     founded    a    Missionary    Station    at 

Chicago,  111. 

1675.  MARQUETTE  founded  a  mission  at  Kaskaskia,  111. 
KING  PHILIP'S  WAR  in  New  England  began. 

1676.  BACON'S  REBELLION  against  Berkeley    in  Virginia, 

one  hundred  years  before  independence. 
QUINQUEPARTITE  DEED  formed  in  East  and  West 
Jersey — west  to  the  Quakers  and  east  to  Car 
teret.  Dividing  line  front  Little  Egg  Harbor 
to  lat.  41°  41'  on  the  northernmost  branch  of 
the  Delaware  River. 


tf 


Date  Due 


PRINTED    IN    U.S.A.  CAT        NO.      24       161 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILIT* 


A     000554516     5 


